"This Afternoon I Spoke To The Archangel Michael."
The Archangel Michael.
The day known as "Wednesday, June 28, 2000" will henceforth live on in the hearts and minds of all God-fearing men and women for all eternity. For this is the day, dear readers, that I spoke to the Archangel Michael.
When I woke that fateful morn at seven o'clock ante meridian, I had no idea of the magificent splendor which was to be bestowed upon me later that afternoon. Unlike most visits from Heavenly Seraphim, there were no Signs given to me that I was to soon experience Spiritual Euphoria. The nettle tea that I have every morning did not become the Sacred Blood of Our Savior, Jesus Christ, while I was drinking it, but rather remained nettle tea. Similarly, my bagel with cream cheese did not transubstantinate before my very eyes, nor did I experience The Stigmata. According to my family and co-workers, at no point during the day did I Speak In Tongues or Cure The Blind either.
I also cut myself shaving. The wound did not miraculously heal.
Nevertheless, at approximately 12:35 P.M., Eastern Standard Time, the telephone at my desk rang. There was no conspicuous Holy Aura surrounding the receiver when I picked it up.
I spoke, unaware of Who I was speaking to. "Hi, thanks for calling The Spear Report. This call may be monitored for training purposes. My name is Casey, how can I help you?"
The Voice on the phone was uncharacteristically quiet for its quasi-powerful identity. It also spoke with a heavy midwestern accent. "Hi, Casey. I got a postcard in the mail the other day, and it said to mention this code, and I could get a four week free trial of your newsletter."
I accepted the code, and opened a new file in the database. "Name, please?"
A pause. "Is that first name Archangel, last name Michael?"
"Sure, if that's how you have to put it."
At this point, I became the thankful recepiant of the Archangel's earthly address. He lives in Wisconsin, truly the most blessed of all the fifty states.
"Sir," I said, for I was unaware of how to properly address the Manifestation Of The All-Powerful, "although this is a free trial, we do need to have a credit card on file, just in case you sign up for additional services."
Heaven prefers Visa. It's everywhere you want to be.
Then the Archangel addressed me directly. "Casey," he said. "I'm running a little organization out here that you may be interested in. It's a religious organization."
Not, as I suspected, an adventure team workshop for corporate trainers.
"A few of my colleagues and I are planning to invest some money in your stock market. We plan to split all the profits equally with all of our Church Members. We're called the Church of the Archangel Michael."
Archangels in human form must not have a vow of poverty or selflessness. This must be because they are Archangels.
"Are you interested in joining us, Casey?"
At this point in the conversation, I took a slightly long pause. This is where I took into account all of the crappy, half-assed things that could have been really great Holy Signs but weren't. I also remembered cutting myself while shaving. If I was Chosen to be a Prophet Of The Highest Order, I reasoned, I should certainly have not cut myself shaving that morning, and so I politely declined and hung up the phone.
The Choir Invisible is nothing but a bunch of cheese-eating communists, and I will have no part of that.
Note: This story, believe it or not, is actually 100% true.