Angels, Dude. The Slight - Chapter Four

Seraph is a real chill dude with a shitty job, man. Yup, he's on dragon duty. Totally sucks. Lucky for him, King Keziah, his cool new dragon friend, knows how to make his party favors that much cooler. 

 

Music By:

Alexey Mikailov & Glinka Choir

Sviridov Pushkin's: Garland No. 7 Reveille

 

Snoop Dogg: Riders On The Storm (feat. The Doors) 

 

Transcript: The Slight - Chapter Four - Angels, Dude. (dialogue only)

Narrator: We see a very large dragonic visage blowing a gust of smoke onto the face of a small archangel named Seraph. He inhales the smoke in as much as he can, holds it, and exhales. 

Seraph: Ahhhh... that's WILD, man!

Narrator: Seraph, now completely stoned out of his mind, hits the rock wall behind him and slides down into a sitting position. King Keziah, the dragon refining these party favors, is chained by his ankles to large boulders. And the both of them are enclosed in a very deep nothingness of an empty volcanic cave. Both of them are here for their supposed "crimes", only one is guilty. And therefore, he has been tasked with this duty as punishment for the mistake he made a couple days before. You see, Seraph, he's kind of a "chill dude". He means well. But, he's not really good with "the tasks". He was asked to greet the new initiates who had just gotten their wings, read them the rules, show them the facilities, help them get started... But he got bored and instead took them out on a field trip, and they ended up in the desert taking mushrooms. One of the initiates decided he needed to go on a vision quest and figure out who he really is and what he really wants out of his afterlife, and some of the others are still unaccounted for. So, for now, he's on dragon duty. 

Seraph: So, why are you here, dude?

King Keziah: Racial profiling. They can't handle what they can't control. We have power, they want that power, if we don't give it to them, they try and take it, and if we still don't give it to them, they lock us up... or worse. 

Seraph: That's messed up. 

Keziah: Damn right it is. Pass that shit over here. 

Narrator: Seraph, too stoned to realize he's been holding the blunt the whole time, gets up and gives Keziah a giant puff. 

Keziah: You see, it doesn't matter what I do. I'm out there, doin' what I do, taking care of my family, trying to make something of myself, and it's like, any one of them with any amount of authority can stop me at any time and say, "hey, boy, where you headed to so fast?" Like, "boy"? I'm 6,000 years old, motherfucker! Who you callin' "boy"? Only I can't say that. Lest I forget. Hence, here I am, stuffed in a cave, locked in chains, for I don't know how long...

Seraph: That's not right, man. 

Keziah: Damn, it's too quiet around here. No music. Nothing. 

Seraph: What do you wanna hear?

Keziah: Rock, jazz, rap... anything, man. The silence is deafening. 

Narrator: Seraph lowers his head a little, closing his eyes, and slowly music starts to lift into the space around them, bouncing off the amazing acoustics of the cave walls. 

Seraph: So what about your family, man?

Keziah: What about my family?

Seraph: Damn...

Keziah: Yeah, damn...

Seraph: It's just not right, man...

Keziah: It's been going on for centuries. Never changes. My beings have struggled with the prejudices and myths made up about us. Flying around and stealing white women. Lighting them on fire and shit. Like, who does that? Look, all I'm sayin' is, we're just out there tryin' to survive. We are amazing creatures. We know that. Or we SHOULD know that. I'm fuckin' BEAUTIFUL, man. 

Seraph: You ARE beautiful, man!

Keziah: That's what I'm sayin', man. Let us be the beautiful fuckin' giants that we are, blowing fire and flyin' around and being fuckin' awesome and shit and either be cool with it or just... You know? But it never changes. It never fuckin' changes. 

Narrator: Seraph sits in thought for a while. He never could understand why so many beings were like that. He made friends so easily. Big, small, didn't matter. He just rolled with it. Had a good time. And from the moment King Keziah and he started talking, he instantly saw a kindred spirit in him. How is it someone so kind and cool and easy to hang with can be in chains while so many far darker and worse beings are free to lurk about the universe untouched? And why do so many beings just turn their cheeks to it? Why doesn't anyone do anything about it? Something? Anything? But then he realizes, "Shit, I AM that being. Right NOW. I AM that." He looks up at Keziah with this realization. 

Seraph: Not today, my new dragon friend.

Narrator: He uses his magic to undo the chains. 

Seraph: Now, I'm not tryin' to be all "white angel" on ya, but this job kinda sucks anyway. Go, get outta here. Go see your family, man. 

Narrator: King Keziah looks at Seraph and smiles. 

Keziah: You know, you really should get out of here, too. Out of this business I mean. If you don't wanna be like them, don't ride with them. 

Narrator: And in two swoops of the dragon's wings, he takes off up and out the giant hole in the top of the cave. He is free... for now. And just as Seraph is getting comfortable, an invite to a short story reading titled The Myth of Kur and a flier to a protest for dragons' rights fall onto his lap. He reads them through his stony haze. 

Seraph: Thanks, dude!

Narrator: And as for Seraph, well, that's another story. This may very well be the final straw, only he's too stoned and pleased with life at the moment to give it one single solitary thought. He kicks back with his ginormous dragon joint, turns up the music, and relaxes with his thoughts... or lack thereof.