Bed-rest… I was sent home after I was taken off the oxygen mask. Nick had put a restraining order on Mickey and my protests were ignored. Nick insisted that he nurse me so I let him. He wasn’t there full time and I had to get out of bed to get to the kitchen for chicken soup. I was weak and could barely make it up the stairs. I was so doped up on oxycotin that I might have had a hard time at any rate. It would have helped had he been there but I didn't miss him. I slept and let all the manipulations and lies rest with me. I wasn’t going to give up but, right then, I needed to rest.

“So, you aren’t gonna throw in the hat?”
Imp’s impertinent smirk was almost more than Angel could take. There is no sex on the spiritual plane but Angel felt the masculine urge to slap the fucker. Even the Big Kahuna wasn’t one or the other… depending how the idea of God is perceived. The truth is that sex is transcended at that level. Would anyone reasonably ascribe sexual identity to a process? It certainly wasn’t productive to appear before Moses or Muhammad without direct instructions on this matter. The Christ tried to level it out, to little or no avail, when he said that after the resurrection we are neither married nor given in marriage but become as the angels: in other words… sexless. But Christ blew that notion when he referred to God as our heavenly Father.
Angel smiled at the inequity if God was the only one in heaven with a pair of gonads? God’s relationship with humankind is more the creation of idle minds than it is of any definitive universal reality. The fact is that a paternal maternity describes better what happens here: just as God’s laws are descriptive rather than prescribed the creation is more an improvised dance than the will of a huge ego with sex organ. This being the case, Angel never had the option of taking the thought of slapping Imp up to the level of an action.
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