The Reluctant Doomsayer-01

I heard the impossible. I heard a knock on the door. I should hear nothing after that last seizure. I should be dead, blissfully dead.

The door knock. I heard it a second time, and then a muffled--but irritated--voice.

I got up and answered the door. I saw a man that looked like Christopher Walken, but too young to really be him, and too much like a well-known role of his, for it to be him.

"You're Michael." I said.

"Clever monkey." he said, and he pushed past me into my room, shutting the door.

"I'd tell you to not be afraid, but that's obvious, and before you ask: I had a hand in the first one, but the others didn't have my guiding hand, and the me portrayed isn't actually mad with Him. Just a story, albeit one with some truth to it."

"Well, that explains why I'm not quite dead yet."

"Look at you." he said, "Undone by a heart attack, brought on by all this stress felt due to a lifetime of frustration."

"You're not here to chit-chat." I said.

He smiled. "True, I'm not. I'm here on His behalf, and He has an offer for you."

"Go on." I said, sitting down.

"Your fellow monkeys finally got on His bad side, again."

"Well, I doubt I'm being asked to do the righteous smiting thing. Your kind is far better for that."

"I see why He picked your name out of the hat, as it were." Michael said, "You're the Final Prophet, if you accept. Your task will be to give the final warning to repent before the Judgement."

"This sort of negotiating seems far more reminscent of a gangster film than a proper negotiation. Nonetheless, what happens should I refuse."

"Death, and not the sort that relieves. Total and eternal severance from Him. You think you folks go mad being alone too long now?"

I quickly put the dots together. "Okay. And what's on offer for acceptance."

"If you're lucky, a remnant of your kind will get back on His good side and be allow to start over after the mass exterminations, and you--assuming you hold up your end--are guaranteed eternity in blissful serenity."

The door to my room exploded inward, and another man who looked like Christopher Walken walked into the room.

"Not. Funny." he said to the other one, and in a smooth motion snatch me up and took me away. Since Kansas is well behind me at this point, I just went with it. Some time soon thereafter, he sat me down and stared at me.

"Did you decide?"

"Nope. I figured it had to be a trap, because you folks who are still on God's side don't negotiate. You just deliver news or execute commands."

"True. That said, there is something He wants you to do, and you're not dead yet because this work is yours, like it or not."

"Let me guess: I'm to warn the world of God's impending wrath?"

"Correct."

"Any help forthcoming from His end?"

"You don't die, yet. Other things to come as required; do your part, maintain faith in Him to handle the rest, and everything will go well."

"Lovely."