Dogma Page #5

---

(tosses towel away)

Like I was saying - I am the Metatron.

Bethany stares, saying nothing, pinned against the wall. Metatron looks

insulted.

METATRON:

Metatron. Don't tell me the name doesn't ring a bell?

Bethany remains silent and wideyed. Metatron gets testy.

METATRON:

You people. If there isn't a movie about it, it's not worth knowing, right?

(beat)

I am a seraphim.

(beat)

The highest choir of angels?

(beat)

You do know what an angel is, don't you?

Bethany slowly nods.

METATRON:

Metatron acts as the voice of God. Any documented occasion when some yahoo

claims to have spoken with God, they're speaking to me. Or they're speaking

to themselves.

BET HANY:

(beat)

Why doesn't God speak for himself?

METATRON:

Ah. So glad you decided to join the conversation. To answer that - human

beings have neither the aural nor the psychological capacity to withstand

the awesome

power of God's true voice. Were you to hear it, you're mind would cave in

and your heart would explode within your chest. We went through five Adam's

before we figured that out.

BETHANY:

Are you going to kill me?

Ni ETATRON

I could for what you did to this suit. Unfortunately I can't. You're

called.

BETH ANY:

(beat)

Called how? How called?

METATRON:

All that from two words. Color this angel impressed.

BETHANY:

(beat)

How do I know you're an angel?

METATRON:

Oh, you mean besides the fiery entrance and the expansive wingspan? You

people kill me. Fine. You want more proof? How about a tequila?

(snaps fingers)

INT MEXICAN BAR - NIGHT

Bethany and Metatron sit at a table. Bethany immediately clutches at her

pajamas. Metatron waves a WAITER over.

BETHANY:

Where the hell are we?!

METATRON:

The only place one can go for good tequila.

(to Waiter)

Dos tequilas, por favor. And an empty glass.

WAITER:

Si.

The Waiter turns to leave. Metatron yanks a smoke from his pocket as he

goes.

METATRON:

Gracias, senor.

BETHANY:

We're in Mexico?!

METATRON:

Actually, we're in the Chilli's down the street from your house, but it was

still an impressive trick

(lights smoke)

You don't mind that I lost the wings, do you? I'm trying to keep our

profile low.

BETHANY:

I suppose it would be too cliche to observe aloud that this is the weirdest

dream I've ever had.

METATRON:

Can you imagine how insulting it is to converse with a person and have them

insist you're a dream? If I had an ego, it'd be bruised.

BETHANY:

What do you want with me?

METATRON:

I'm to charge you with a holy crusade.

(pause)

You do know what a crusade is, don't you?

BETHANY:

(sarcastically)

Uh, yeah.

METATRON:

Don't give me that. Last time I charged someone with a crusade they had to

look the word up.

BETHANY:

Why am I supposed to go on a crusade?

METATRON:

Your's is a heritage divine. Also, you didn't seem to be doing much lately.

The Waiter arrives with their drinks.

METATRON:

Oh - Gracias!

(he leaves; off the tequila)

One of the only things your people have mastered since you crawled from the

primordial ooze.

(sips)

BETHANY:

I work in an abortion clinic.

METATRON:

(spits tequila into empty glass)

Moses was a drunk. Look what he accomplished. And no one's even asking you

to part an ocean. All you have to do is go to New Jersey.

BETH ANY:

New ]ersey.

METATRON:

Sure. Go to New Jersey and visit and small church on a very important day.

Agreed?

BETHANY:

That doesn't sound like a crusade.

METATRON:

Aside from the fine print, that's it.

BETHANY:

What's the fine print?

METATRON:

(mumbles into glass)

stopacoupleofangelsfromenteringandthusnegatingallexistence.

Damn, this is good tequila.

(sips)

BETHANY:

Wait, wait, wait. Repeat that.

METATRON:

Damn, this is good tequila?

BETHANY:

The first part.

METATRON:

(spits into empty glass)

Details. Stop a couple of angels from entering and thus negating all

existence. God, I hate when people need it spelled out for them.

BETHANY:

Clarify that.

METATRON:

That's the problem with you people - you need every-thing clarified. No

leaps of faith whatsoever. Alright -vou want the whole secret origin? Here

goes:
Back in the old days, God was vengeful and hot-tempered, and his

wrath was bore by the Angel of Death - name of Loki. When Sodom and

Gommorah were destroyed? That was Loki. When the waters wiped out

everything with the exception of Noah and his menagerie? That was Loki. And

he was good at what he did. But one day, he refused to bear God's wrath any

longer.

BETHANY:

Why?

METATRON:

Because he listened to his friend - a Grigori by the name of Bartleby.

BETHANY:

Grigori?

METATRON:

One of the choirs of angels. They're called Watchers. Guess what they do?

BETHANY:

So they're like Guardian angels?

METATRON:

Exactly like that, but different. So one day, Loki's wiping out all the

first born of Egypt...

BETHANY:

The Tenth Plague.

METATRON:

See? Tell a person you're the Metatron and they stare at you blankiy;

mention something out of a Charlton Heston movie and they're suddenly

theology scholars. May I continue uninterrupted?

(Bethany nods)

So once he's done with the first born, Loki takes his friend Bartleby out

for a post-slaughter drink. And over many rounds, they get into this

discussion about whether or not murder in the name of God is okay. Now,

Bartleby can run circles around Loki intellectually, not to mention the

fact that Loki's more than half in the bag, and in the end, Bartleby

convinces Loki to quit his position and take a lesser one - one that

doesn't involve slaughter. So - very inebriated - Loki tells God he quits:

throws down his fiery sword, gives him the finger - which ruins it for the

rest of us. because from that day forward, God decreed that angels could no

longer imbibe alcohol. Hence all the spitting.

Rate this script:2.0 / 1 vote