When Michael turned, he was confused by what he saw. It was a teenage boy in black-framed glasses — a doughy-bodied surf-dork who looked like Jonah Hill before he lost all that weight.
“How did you know what I was thinking?” Michael repeated.
“I have special powers,” said the dork. “Plus your lips were moving… and you were talking… out loud… to yourself… like a crazy person.”
The surf-dork then introduced himself. His name was Gabe (still is, actually.) Gabe noticed, and mentioned, that Michael was nude, save the BORROWED towel, and was like; “What’s up with that?” To which Mike replied; “Think I could borrow a loin cloth?”
“Loin cloth? Teenagers haven’t worn those things in a thousand years. You’re an angel, aren’t you?”
Michael didn’t know what to say, but he felt compelled to say something anyway, so he said: “You don’t know nothing!”
Gabe raised one eyebrow, “Um-hm. Come on,” he said as he trudged past the restaurant toward his home. Michael followed along.
The bungalows at Paradise Cove are actually mobile homes, a.k.a. “trailers.” For the most part they are funky and cool. But one is still kicking it old-school, and hasn’t been revamped since the ’70’s. This was Gabe’s place.
Mike followed Gabe back to his ramshackle trailer, and met his roomie. “The name’s Barton Lamar Zechariah Bub,” he said. “You can call me B.L.Z.”
B.L.Z. had been an angel of death during the plague. He worked for the other team back then. But after a few centuries of sickness, torture and death, B.L.Z. realized he wanted more out of life. That’s when he decided to become a surfer.
But surfing’s all hard and stuff. All that standing and falling down, bleh. So instead, B.L.Z. became a beach bum. This suited his slacker personality. Trouble is, there’s no money in bumming, and when you exit your calling, you lose your powers and you have to live like a human. And, as every human knows, there are bills to pay. This is why he has a job.
Ironically, B.L.Z.’s job is life guard. He’s never actually saved anyone, and people have died on his watch. But he gets paid, and when you’re human, THAT’S what it’s all about.
“Try these,” Gabe said to Mike, handing him some shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. Mike dressed as he explained.
“I’ve got bad news for you two. I’m here to rain down unholy horror. To bring on Armageddon. To destroy everything; including you.”
“Well,” said B.L.Z., “I hope you have better luck than Gabe.”
It was true. Gabe had been sent by God to destroy Earth right after Fox cancelled “Arrested Development.” Nothing pisses off God like bad television. This is why Hollywood is run by Satan. He just LOVES pissing off the Lord.
“What? You’re an angel too?”
“Was,” said Gabe.
“What happened?” Michael asked. “Why didn’t you destroy the Earth?”
“I saw the light,” said Gabe.
“What does that mean?” Michael wondered aloud.
“Are you really going to blast this place to smithereens, killing every living creature… including Shelly Bloom?” Asked Gabe.
Oh. Right. Shelly. Mike hadn’t even had a chance to talk to her yet. Mike decided to go to the restaurant and ask her out.
If she says ‘yes,’ Michael will work out a deal with God to spare the world. If she says ‘no’… everyone dies.
He was just about to high-tail it to the restaurant when he heard…
“WHY ARE HANGING OUT WITH THOSE NUM-NUTS?”
“Hey! They’re right here!” Mike said.
“THEY CAN’T HEAR ME ANYMORE. WHAT’S GOING ON DOWN THERE?”
“Nothing. I just… look, is there any reason I need to destroy Earth today? I just got here.”
“YOU’RE NOT TRYING TO WEASLE OUT OF THIS, ARE YOU?”
“No! I’ve just got to make plans, find some W.M.D.’s, drill to the Earth’s core; I need a couple of days.”
“FINE,” Said God, “BUT BE AWARE. YOU ARE SUBJECT TO EARTHLY TEMPTATIONS. DO WHAT YOU NEED TO DO, THEN VAMMOSE!”
“Vammose?” Michael thought, “I didn’t know God spoke Mexican.” Anyway, Michael was relieved. With God off his back, he was now able to move forward on his plan.
His REAL plan.