How Mr. Marchfrost Came to Heaven In Spite of Himself

Because so much time has passed since Creation, and because so many people get themselves into so much trouble, many Guardian Angels are in treatment for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Angel Austin had recently been discharged from treatment. He now sat perusing the earth in search of someone in need of his help. His friend, Angel Bellingham, was sitting with him.

“Any prospects?” asked Angel Bellingham.

“Yes. Mr. Marchfrost, the old geezer in the vest throwing bread to the ducks. His prevailing thought is that because he is such a fine spiritual specimen, he is coming to heaven.”

“Is he?” asked Angel Bellingham.

“Not at the moment. He feeds ducks, but he has no use for people. To get the last loaf of cheap white bread, he hit an old man in the ankles with his shopping cart. But I was thinking that if I can get him to do one kind thing for another human being, he might make it. Probably very soon.”

Post-traumatic stress disordered Guardian Angels are often discharged from treatment with a crutch such as vermouth, Scotch or Valium. This is done to prevent any relapse, especially in the event of an immediate new assignment. Although Guardian Angels are free to take as much time off as necessary to recoup their faculties, most are so dedicated that they endanger themselves to help the unfortunate souls of Earth.

Angel Austin’s crutch of choice was wine. While formulating a plan to save the soul of Mr. Marchfrost, Angel Austin had polished off one half gallon of his particular crutch of choice – the robust and very popular Carlo Rossi Paisano®. Angel Austin knew how eager the males of the Earth were to mark their territories. Using that knowledge, he decided to mark Mr. Marchfrost for heaven. The implement of Mr. Marchfrost’s salvation was Angel Austin’s new puppy body and his new puppy bladder sloshing with its recent deposit of the robust and very popular Carlo Rossi Paisano®. Perhaps for heaven’s sake, through the agency of the puppy and the puppy’s bladder, Mr. Marchfrost could be helped to be kind to another human being.

Starting out on his morning walk, Mr. Marchfrost admired the high shine of his shoes. With one shiny Florsheim® extended forward and his upper body turned back to latch the gate, he missed seeing, and his foot was missed being seen by a small child on a tricycle who left a tire track on the high shine.

An epithet rose to Mr. Marchfrost’s pure mouth. He was congratulating himself on a virtuous squelch, when a puppy ambled up, sat on his foot and expelled a long, warm stream of Carlo’s fruit of the vine. The puppy’s bladder control being immature, he did not stop at erasing the tire track, but also rinsed the laces.

Elevating the puppy high in the air in the manner of a punted football was truly a reflex. It amazed Mr. Marchfrost that he was nimble enough to run after his own punt and catch it in midair before it landed on the roof of a police car that pulled over when the officer saw the kick. Holding the puppy in front of his face, Mr. Marchfrost observed it to be some sort of spaniel with gigantic ears. As he was examining the puppy, the puppy bladder let go with another stream of bladder-processed Rossi that landed at the base of a yellow rose on Mr. Marchfrost’s tie, fortuitously creating the effect of a stem.

“Mr. Marchfrost, do you have a dog now?”

It was the unwelcome voice of his neighbor, Chatty Carrington, an irrepressibly pleasant woman who dragged up and down the street handing out home-baked cookies to children, taking home-grown flowers to sick neighbors, and making an insufferable scraping noise because one of the rubber feet was missing from her walker.

“No, Mrs. Carrington, I –“

She interrupted him. “Mr. Marchfrost, I see you have bought yourself a Salvador Dali® double image tie. If you look at it in one way, a soul of creation has discovered existentialism and is seeking its own path, leaving a trail of tears. If you look at it another way, there is a yellow rose anchored to your tie by a remarkable stem.”

In his distraction, Mr. Marchfrost had not noticed the yellow trickle trail turned art, but now with his attention drawn to the deposit and as he still held the puppy out in front of him, in a rage he began to squeeze and shake it, which was absolutely the wrong thing to do. The puppy causally sprayed Mr. Marchfrost’s entire face with the remainder of the Carlo Rossi Paisano® and Mr. Marchfrost threw him. The puppy floated down and lightly landed on his feet.

Chatty Carrington noticed this and exclaimed, “The little angel.”

Mr. Marchfrost  missed the  floating trick because  at that moment he could not see.

The puppy disappeared around the corner. There was the sound of a crashing trash can, followed by the puppy reappearing. In his mouth was a broken wooden cane. He laid this at Mr. Marchfrost’s feet and sat wagging his tail. Chatty Carrington noticed that the rubber foot at the end of the cane exactly matched the three on her walker.

“Mr. Marchfrost, do you suppose you could get the rubber foot off that old cane and put it on my walker?”

Mr. Marchfrost struggled to find a reason why not, but he could not. Besides that, he suddenly felt dizzy and blamed it on the ghastly radiance of Chatty Carrington’s hopefulness. He kneeled down to steady himself. Once on his knees, he thought he might as well attempt the repair. It was amazingly easy to remove the rubber foot from the cane and jam it onto the leg of the walker. Surprisingly, it was a perfect fit. Then, just before everything vanished into a great white light, Mr. Marchfrost saw the puppy smile.

Until they adjust to the brightness, new entrants to heaven are given +2.5 magnification, polycarbide anti-glimmer sunglasses. Mr. Marchfrost was still in line at heaven’s gate and in somewhat of a daze when he put on his glasses. The puppy was walking beside him. When Mr. Marchfrost’s turn came, admitting Angel Bellingham congratulated him on his success.

“Yes, of course. I worked very hard at being worthy of heaven.”

Angel Bellingham smiled, but not at Mr. Marchfrost. He was smiling at the puppy.

“Oh,” said Mr. Marchfrost. “This puppy adopted me. I know he's grateful he latched on to someone who was sure of coming here and not the other place.”

(We Are Many - Is It Up or Down From Here?) Copyright © 2015 by Renee Foss