Angel of Mercy

By | August 4, 2016
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Angel of Mercy

Most of you know, or have known, an angel in your lifetime. It might an angel of the Biblical kind, or a more material angel who seems to always be smiling and helping others.

Then there are angels like me.

The last few weeks I’ve dedicated myself to helping things in need. Or should I say helping things that I need. Are you confused yet? I figured you were, so let me give you an example.

The other day, there was a plate sitting on the counter. On it were five pieces of chocolate-peanut butter fudge. I admit, my yearning for chocolate has increased with age. When I was a kid it was anything cherry-flavored. But now, as my aging arteries grow narrower and narrower and my blood slogs through brittle arteries and capillaries crusty with mold and sediment, my body yearns for things I should not have and do not need. It makes me want them all the more.

But I’m an angel, yes I am.

So anyway, there are those little squares of chocolate-peanut butter fudge sitting there, all alone, begging for attention. They’ve probably been separated from the mother fudge for several days; they were pining and lonely.

I guess as I’ve aged, I’ve become a more compassionate person, but an angel, I’ve never been. At least, I didn’t think so until I really thought about all the suffering I’ve ended and all the loneliness I’ve eased. I’m a pretty good guy, I’m thinking as I saunter off into the kitchen to check on those poor little pieces of fudge. They looked so lonely. So sad.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve never believed in euthanasia or mercy killing. But, there are times when you must end suffering any way you can. Those poor little pieces of fudge were suffering so badly. You could almost hear their sullen, lonely wails. Each time I walked by that cold, hard plate, I could feel those poor little fudge squares crying out to me. The angel within, the angel of mercy, became my conscience. I knew I had to do something and whatever it was, I had to make it quick and painless. Those poor little fudgies deserved a better fate.

I assessed the situation with my usual acumen. This called for a major procedure – one both quick and painless.

I prepared for the procedure by waddling over to the refrigerator, opening it, and grabbing, the gallon jug of 1% milk – as ironic as that may seem. With ice-cold milk jug in hand, I calmly approached those forlorn little cubes of fudge with an angel’s countenance. The halo was literally bursting from my head. The angel of mercy – that’s me – hovered over those poor, sad baby fudge squares, who had been separated from the mother fudge so long, and eyed them with an angel’s compassion. My heart was breaking as I looked at those pitiful, little cubes.

Much like the dentist who hides that ominous-looking, 6″ hypodermic of Xylocaine behind his back and then, whips it out and rams it into the roof of my mouth – force me to lift my legs and feet off the dentist chair as searing pain screams through my mouth — I quickly grabbed a cube of fudge from the plate, turned my back so the other little fudgies couldn’t see, and stuffed that cube of fudge in my mouth and washed it instantly down my angel’s gullet with a decadent, cascade of really cold milk. Ah!

Painlessly and awash in flood of ice cold milk, the little fudge’s suffering ended. What an angel am I.

The other little cubes nervously wondered what I had done with their pal. I could feel their apprehension; I could sense their fear. I knew that I’d have to end their misery soon. I could not stand to watch their suffering much longer. The time was now or never. One-by-one, I stuffed those forsaken little cubes of fudge into my mouth and with large, cold gulps of milk, ended their suffering.

I, the angel of mercy, compassionately, painlessly, and mercifully, ended the suffering of five little lonely fudge cubes. No longer will they suffer, or cry or yearn mother fudge.

Sated, the angel of mercy returned to my lounger and reflected upon the good thing I had done. Because of my love and compassion, five lost, lonely fudge cubes suffer no more. They will no longer cry out, nor will they ever have to suffer or yearn again. I am certain that they have all found peace and eternal bliss, because I loved them so much.

Now, life has new meaning for me. It’s a wonderful feeling to end suffering and bring bliss to lonely, sullen things. Being an angel of mercy is not easy, for there is always more angelic work to do. For instance, right now, even as I write this, there is box of jelly donuts on the kitchen table. I can hear their laments. I can feel their pain. They yearn for the mother dough and the father yeast. They miss the warmth of the family doughball from which they were so heartlessly extricated. Separated and lonely, these poor things cry out to be saved. It’s another task for me. It’s just another day in the life of the angel of mercy.

It’s time for another procedure. It cannot wait. As tired as I am from all the angelic work I have done, I know there is more suffering to be ease, more anguish to be ended, more merciful work to perform.

I open the refrigerator, pull out the gallon jug of ice-cold 1% milk, and approach the suffering box of donuts with an angelic demeanor. I know I must end their suffering and I must do it quickly. Their wailing and moaning is unbearable. I can stand it no longer.

I grab one – it’s a raspberry crème, by-the way- and I turn my back on the box so the others do not have to watch as I bite the poor little jelly donut in half and swallow it quickly, aided by a large pull of milk. I must work fast for I know the other half of the jelly donut is in terrible pain. With much alacrity, I stuff it my mouth, raise the jug and take two large gulps. Thus, the suffering was ended and the cries of anguish quelled.

But for the angel of mercy there is always more to do. An angel of mercy’s work is never done. There are other donuts wailing, other cookies crying, and chocolate bars writhing in agony.

I cannot ease all the pain around me, I cannot end all the suffering, but I am dedicated to easing as much suffering, loneliness and yearning as I can.

It’s all in a night’s work for the angel of mercy.

I need more milk. I have to run to the store but I’ll be right back.

6 thoughts on “Angel of Mercy

  1. Muriel Schlecht

    I wonder. If you had given names to each one of those lonely little pieces of fudge, could you have eaten them at all?

    Reply
  2. Damie Simons

    Angel of Mercy!! So that is what I have been all these years!! And to think, I would eat that donut and/or candy and feel guilty..BUT No More, as I was doing a good and worthy things.
    Thank You for educating me. Oops, my halo just slid off.
    Love your essays and stories.

    Reply
  3. Rea Mieczkowski

    In this subdivision where I reside, they call me an angel too. however, you give that word a whole new meaning and I will pass the info on. I think I can earn the new title much easier. Thanks for the helpful info.:)

    Reply
  4. Jean

    I must print this one off for my diabetic doctor. Now I won’t feel so guilty anymore!!!

    Reply

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