“You have been chosen, Phillip,” the angel said.

“But I can’t,” Phillip replied, holding his head in his hands.

“Your reluctance does you credit, but there is simply no one else.  I searched the Earth for a pure and noble soul to carry out the will of our Lord, and among the billions, there is only you.”

“Bullshit,” Phillip said.  He stared at package nestled between his feet in the filth-strewn gutter.  It was a small box wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine; like Phillip himself, it was utterly unremarkable.  “There has to be someone else,” he pleaded.

The angel sighed, and the golden aura of light radiating from his winged form diminished.  “Would that there was, but if you do not complete this task, Phillip, no one shall.  This burden is yours to bear.”

Phillip reached down and gently fingered the knotted strands of hemp.  “And you’re sure that this is God’s will?”

“I am an Angel of the Lord, Phillip.  I am incapable of anything else.”

“I just can’t,” Phillip said.  He kicked the box into a nearby storm drain.

“Then this world is truly beyond redemption.  Your inaction condemns all mankind.”

“So be it.”


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