As I mentioned in my first post today, there are two people who always invite me to hook up with them on holidays. One is Ron Angle. He can be scary to some, but is a pussycat next to the person I visited on Easter. He's none other than the Angel of Death, Malakh ha-Mavet, aka Mar Mavet, aka Malach Ahzari, the most dreaded of all numinous beings.
Malakh has refrained from reaping me solely because of my prowess as a Hearts player. I was supposed to have been put out of my misery five years ago, but he likes a good game of cards. So I'm on borrowed time.
I actually accompanied Malakh on Sunday afternoon for a few of what he called welfare checks. As we tooled along in his Chevy Blazer, I wondered why someone with his seniority had to work on Easter Sunday.
"No rest for the weary," he replied. With Covid and Ukraine, he's been real busy. I understand he's paid less than $15 an hour, too. I urged him to go on strike, or consider a transfer to being God's messenger. Something a little less stressful. But he won't hear of it.
Now he may be able to walk through walls and doors, but he was very civilized on Easter. He used the doorbell.
"Can you play Hearts?" was the sole question he asked each person who answered.
Unfortunately for the people we visited, no one could play Hearts. Now they have an eternity to learn. He did give an extension to a Spades player.
When finished with his afternoon run, we returned to his home. Inasmuch as we had no third for Hearts, he insisted on building a great fire, and constantly reminded me I'll soon be able to enjoy that on a more permanent basis. That's when I suggested chess.
I let him win the first two games to pump his ego, then laid the hammer down in the third game, totally destroying him. This should keep me alive a few more weeks. In fact, he was so happy he gave me a rocking chair.
I now have two rocking chairs so I'll never be off my rocker.
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