Do As Thou Wilt (An Exercise In Habbalogic)

By A. Damiani


The South Pacific:

"Do as thou wilt," Eli had said, "but be Cool."

Egziel remembered this very well. That was the day his life changed from the better: he got to quit his job trying to inspire some sad, bored little housewife with the Wonders of Paper Mache, and got to start livin' the high-life sipping banana daquris on a gorgeous tropical beach in the south Pacific. Single Elohim, no attachments. Sure, there was a twinge of guilt now and then for the fist couple months, but, hey, orders are orders, and soon enough he'd gotten over it. Life was good.

He was, however, having a really awful day.

"DIE, Hellspawn!" screamed the waiter.

"Er... excuse me, sir, but I'm afraid you have a mistake."

The waiter also had an Uzi, and availed himself of both.

"Ow. That hurt," said Egziel, singing the corporeal song of tongues, and clutching the bullet wounds in his side. "But I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding."

"Then let's let God sort it out!" The waiter dropped the weapon and dove for Egziel's daquri, palming something as he fell. Egziel knew this implied two things: the first, his assailant was evidently a very confused Malakite of Eli, and second, he was in for a world of hurt.

"Ahhh! No! Not the little paper umbrella! I'm an angel, honest! Watch!" He assumed Celestial form, first to convince the Malakite, and second, because there's no use wasting a perfectly good vessel by standing in the way of one of those.

As the little paper umbrella flew harmlessly through his celestial form, burying itself in the tree behind him, the waiter screamed "You betrayed Eli, Habbalah!"

"For the last time, I'm not a... hey, where'd all those ritual tatoos come from? Man, you leave a vessel on for fourty, fifty years it goes all to seed. Huh. Look, I'll just ascend to Heaven, and then we can have a nice talk about this in front of, I dunno. Dominic or someone, OK?"

The Malakite opened his mouth and screached the dischordant tones of the Ethereal song of entropy.

Egziel clutched his head in pain. "Hmm. I don't actually seem to be able to get through to Heaven right now old boy. Let's end this, shall we?" Egziel's song of motion grabbed the fallen Uzi and sprayed the Malakite's vessel through with lead. It hurt him to do so, but his assailant wasn't listening to reason, and, well, it's not like he'd be in Trauma very long or anything.

Something was wrong. Why couldn't he get through to Heaven? Was it possible something had gone wrong? Had he missed some dissonance in the middle of one of the parties? Was he now outcast? Eli did not respond to his summons, and he knew, with a sinking feeling, that he was now a Habbalite.

Which left the question of how to get back into Heaven's good graces -- and more precisely what he'd done to get out of them in the first place: afterall, he was only following orders from his Archangel. He sat down for a long while to think, before coming to what should have been obvious in the first place. He had followed the first part of Eli's instructions to the letter-- "Do as thou wilt"-- but he had forgotten the all important second part-- "but be Cool."

There was, therefore, only one solution: Egziel had to be Cool, at all costs. Unfortunately, the Seraphim council didn't grant words to Habbalah, so the first thing Egziel had to do was get rid of Rex...


A rather annoyed Malakite woke from microtrauma with a start, and shook his head as he looked around.

"Tough Demon?" said a kindly Cherub of Destiny, handing him a Celestial Asprin.

"Egziel. Habbalite. Used to be one of Eli's" Grunted the Malakite.

"No kidding, tall guy, hung out with Vediel, Fated to become Demon of Wannabes?"

"That's the one."

"Tsk. Such a shame..."


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