beneath his skin like wild animals, and he picked up a brick that had somehow found its way into the locker room. Locking eyes with the Pope, Michael placed the brick between his enormous pectoral muscles. The Universe stopped spinning for a moment. Michael rippled his massive chest melons and the brick exploded into dust.
“I’ll stand over on the side,” Pope Benedict said.
The hour was at hand. After years of preparation, the time of the Ultimate Death Match had arrived and across Creation the weight of the moment could be felt. Hell was quiet, its torture machines abandoned, its instruments of pain abandoned in the dust. Confused souls wandered about in a daze, looking for their tormentors, not knowing that they were all up in Madison Square Garden. Some of them tried to figure out why enormous, newly-installed video screens were broadcasting static, but most just sat in stunned silence. Their quiet disbelief filled the caverns, tunnels and pus volcanoes of the Inferno.
In Heaven, it was a nonstop party. The blessed, who were being allowed to watch the Ultimate Death Match for the first time ever, were reveling in the sudden novelty. Video screens blared and blenders whirled as margaritas were made, loud laughter echoed off the cloudbanks and lounge chairs were arranged in rows.
In Madison Square Garden, the angels were rhythmically chanting and clapping.
“We will, we will, rock you!” they shouted, stomping and clapping so hard that they shook the arena walls.
Across from them, the demons squirmed miserably in their tiny, too-tight devil suits. A few of them had “Go Heaven!” signs duct taped to their hands and angels strode the aisles and exhorted them to brandish their signs with more vigor. All Creation held its breath, waiting for what would come next.
Pope Benedict XVI, his gold mitre catching the light, crawled under the ropes and walked into the center of the ring. The lights went down, leaving him standing alone on a brightly lit, square island in the middle of the vast darkness of Madison Square Garden. A microphone was lowered and the Pope grabbed it.
“Angels and demons,” he shouted. “ Souls of the blessed and souls of the damned. Every celestial and supernatural being in all of creation. Welcome to...the Ultimate Death Match!”
The demons gave pallid little cheers, but the angelic crowd went wild. A glutton for attention, the Pope surfed the waves of wild adulation until they had reached their highest point and then his voice dropped in over the roar.
“Tonight, for the first time in history, the Match is being broadcast throughout all of the celestial realms. The eyes of millions – billions! – are upon us now as we gather to witness the ultimate wrestling event, the biggest athletic spectacle ever recorded in the annals of eternity, the final match-up between angelic creatures of light and grace and dirty, hairy fiends who have crawled out of the very pits of torment and despair themselves. Tonight we will witness Heaven vs. Hell, with the winner taking Hell! At stake is the very fate of Creation itself!”
He caught a gnarly avalanche of applause that broke into a wild wave of cheering, and then he pumped it, carving down its shimmering face until the moment was ripe and he let them have the biggest, loudest, clearest shout from his magisterial voice.
“And now, wrestling for Heaven, please welcome the patron saint of chivalry, paratroopers and fighter pilots, patron saint of all Germany, the General of God’s army, the Thing on Wings, Archangel Michael, the gentle destroyer, here tonight to rock your soul!”
A tidal wave of applause came crashing through the dome of the arena and the entire audience caught the wild wave and rode it down the slopes, the mighty sound reverberating across all Creation as Michael burst out of the curtains and trotted up the aisle to the ring. He was wrapped in a golden cloak so bright that it blinded those who were looking directly at it when the follow spots stabbed down.
Michael grabbed the ropes with one hand and launched himself over the top with both feet, landing in the middle of the ring and shucking his golden robe in one smooth motion. He unveiled his gleaming body and his mighty, snow white wings, unfurling them to their full, fifteen-foot span. His body was brilliantly oiled, shining in the lights, his muscled arms were raised in victory, his tiny gold briefs glittered like the brightest star. He turned one way and then the other, a