A short story for the first Sunday of Advent.
A wry look at Luke 1: 11-25
When the Big G published this years schedules and working roster. I knew i’d be in for an interesting, and pretty busy time over the next few months. I’m a bit ashamed to say my first thought was, would there be overtime. Most of the jobs He’s given me shouldn’t have been too difficult but there’s one or two of the incorporeal tasks planned. Those are usually a bit of a pain, to be honest. Still, I guess I should be thankful I’d got a job at all, the way things had been, trying to find efficiency savings and all.
Right then, first off I was sent to find this character Zechariah. Big G reckoned it was about time his missus had a little-un. Been trying for years apparently, so He’s was gonna help ‘em out a bit. I visited her on the quiet but for him, it was a full apparition; the works. You should’ve seen him jump when I materialised. I love it when that happens, though Big G doesn’t approve.
Well I gives the old boy the good news and the daft old coot doesn’t believe me. I’m afraid I got a bit irritated by that, so I struck him dumb for a while, just until the little-un popped into the world. Keep that between you and me though, I don’t think Big G would like it. Might have me up on a fizzer; possible demotion.
You know what I think really put old Zec’s nose out of joint, though? It was when I told him that it would be a boy, ok fine he thinks, but then I told him what to name the kid: John. That did it, he was really ticked off that he couldn’t choose his own boy’s name.
I don’t think he actually believed me about the lad until his stint in the temple came to an end, so he could go home to his missus, Elizabeth. He couldn’t say anything when he found out, so perhaps he just danced for joy.