12 Doors of Christmas, year 2: Door #10

 Door #10: Post Office, Top Floor

For 24 hours, our heroes have not rested. Jampa has collected the day's magical gift from the top floor of the post office, priming the space for the magic to come. Kabloo, Nicholas and Klaus (Nicholas' amnesiac past self) have intensively prepared the complex ritual of angelic convocation. Toddy has complained of boredom, ransacked nearby buildings for abandoned wine, and taken several naps. Now, finally, the party has assembled to perform the final lines of their ritual on the top floor of the post office....

NICHOLAS: "I call and compel thee, guardians of the faithful! I call and compel thee to witness our petition! By the three radiant faces of eternal benevolence, I call thee!"

TODDY:...well? Should I be getting a warm tingle or something? Because I don't feel shit. Is this some kind of alignment thing?

JAMPA: No, Jampa doesn't see angels, and Jampa is definitely good. Jampa never purposely said a bad word or drank wood alcohol in his life.

KLAUS: According to the ritual, we may have to wait a few seconds for the angels to respond....

NICHOLAS: Well, that ritual is written with pious casters in mind. Even for such a potent spell, finding angels minor enough to take a meeting with us may take a bit longer.

 Several minutes of heavenly dilly-dallying and buck-passing later, a golden light gleams in the post office, and angels appear!

KABLOO: It's about time! Stupid, self-important angels and their bush league tardiness... if this were a convocation of monstrous mushrooms, we'd be done by now!

KLAUS: Er, please, your graces, pay no attention to the goblin. He's... a goblin.

KABLOO: Damn right.

NICHOLAS: Your graces, may I ask who has answered our call?

ANGEL #1: I am the Angoo of Pwayoos by Adowaboo Chiwdwen.
TODDY: What?
ANGEL #1: Chiwdwen, mowtal. Adowaboo chiwdwen offoowing mincing, pwecious, pwecocious pwayoos.
TODDY: Gods, I hate fucking chiwdwen.
ANGEL #1: Bewaoow ewf! Bewaoow my waff!

ANGEL #2: Hey guys, I'm the Angel of Prayers for Cute Things. See this kitten? Somebody saw it scratching at a front door on a 60-degree evening and prayed it all the way to eternal bliss. Pretty sweet gig for me. I pretty much just give it tummy rubs and keep its bow clean.
JAMPA: Does angel have some literature Jampa can look at? Jampa is considering a second career. Jampa has kids on the way someday. What kind of benefits does angel get for belly rubbing?
ANGEL #2: Well, I get free cat food on the company account.
JAMPA: (making thumb-and-pinky phone gesture) Call Jampa. Jampa is in.

ANGEL #3: I am the Angel of Holiday Pageants!
NICHOLAS: Are there... prayers in Holiday pageants? What are you in charge of?
ANGEL #3: There are in-character prayers, there are prayers by kids that they won't have to play bushes, prayers for the pageant to end... I pretty much am the department. We can't afford a full staff year-round, obviously, so they just run me ragged during the  holidays.
ANGEL #1: Heoo we go....
ANGEL #3:  It just seems natural that you would staff more angels for the snotty, panicky kids in uncomfortable costumes than for the cute ones with wisdom beyond their years. That's all I'm going to say.

JAMPA: Angel of Peanut Allergies! Jampa prayed to angel all through survival camp when he was 10, but Bobby Crabtree never died of peanuts. How could caring god not kill Bobby Crabtree with peanuts, angel?! Explain to Jampa!

ANGEL #4: On behalf of heaven, I'm awfully sorry about your middle school experience, Jampa. Confidentially, we can't wait for an excuse to smite that kid Bobby, and that includes Anaphylaxitron. He's the Angel of Prayers from the Nut-Stricken. I'm the Angel of Prayers from Aboard Hastily Improvised Watercraft. It's a pretty sparse field, my little niche, but you wouldn't believe how much praying one frightened sailor can do over a single day on a coconut raft.
KABLOO: Gyah, we don't even rate the peanut angel?
ANGEL #4: Not even close, you horrible little thing! The Angel of Football-related Prayers actually interfered in a game to duck this call. First time ever. Makes you wonder why those guys bother, but I guess it finally payed off.

 NICHOLAS: Sounds like we've got a whopper outside, though. CAN YOU HEAR ME? THIS IS NICHOLAS! I SUMMONED YOU! IDENTIFY YOURSELF, YOUR GRACE!

ANGEL #5: I'm the Angel of (hic) of Drunks who Swear They'll Never Drink Again! Lots of prayers comin' my way right now! Enjoy the view while it lasts, 'cause I'm gonna be two-foot-nothing again come about January fifth. (hic) Hiya, Toddy.

TODDY: Geez, pray to one of you immortal bastards ONE SINGLE time, and you never get off the goddamn mailing list. I was 8 years old! I didn't have my principles yet!

ANGEL #5: Hey, whatever, I'm like a big golden tick right now. FULL of desperate, drunken prayer. Actually, (hic) TOO full. Let's vote before I make a mess of this roof.

NICHOLAS: Simply put, we need you five to sign off on a miracle. Three ancient fey–the Spirits of Christmas Past, Present and Future–are trying to destroy what I've built here. It's all quite good. Check your records. It's even zoned properly... that was back when I had more L in my G. All I need is the second component for the binding ritual: A Miraculous Snowfall for the Spirit of Christmas Present. Give me that, and I can arrange for the Treasured Gift and the Earth From a Lonely Grave.

Silence ensues as the angels silently convene, wary of speaking aloud where the rogue spirits might overhear. Finally, as per angelic custom, the mightiest of the convocation reads the decision:

ANGEL #5:  "You have a path before you that does not require our intervention, Nicholas. You need only release the spirits from their wooden bodies and give up your eternal mastery of Canterbury Lane to set the world aright." Awright? Ha ha! (hic) Okay, okay, let me get through this. "Your immortality and your kingdom are built upon your offenses against the natural order, and do not deserve our protection."
NICHOLAS: But, your grace–!
ANGEL #5: Hold it, hold it, I'm still readin' this–there's a surprise ending–"Yet, in light of the righteous prayers for your success arising from your many elves, we grant you this miracle, in hopes that you will choose the harder, more just path should this small miracle prove insufficient against the spirits, whose power is as ancient as ours."

The decision made, the angels vanish in a flash... and all eyes turn to Nicholas.