The angel appeared suddenly, but everyone’s astonishment wore off almost immediately after she took out a scroll and started reading it aloud in an uninterested, bored monotone:

“Hark, I bring you news of ill tidings. For unto you hath been borne another antichrist, who will…”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘another’??” interrupted one of the nurses. “I already helped deliver an antichrist three weeks ago, I only just got over that and returned to work last week!”

The angel stopped, closed their startlingly white eyes, and sighed heavily. “Tell me about it. This is my second pronouncement today, and my tenth… eleventh?… this week.”

Palpable dumbfoundedness filled the room, so much so that even the newborn antichrist didn’t so much as cry.

The angel dropped the scroll to their side and broke the stunned silence. “Look, it’s kinda news to us up in heaven too, but He recently redefined what constitutes being an antichrist, and suddenly instead of it being a once-in-an-epoch event it’s happening multiple times a day. It’s not that humans have suddenly become a fount of evil, so much as an overzealous administrative change. Us heralds aren’t exactly fans of it.”

The new mother, barely recovering from her shock, only managed, “…wha… What exactly does that even MEAN??”

Again the angel sighed, and replied quietly, “Just don’t expect to attend church much, and your child will probably be…” She suddenly went silent, looking heavenward.

“Are you SERIOUS?” she cried, closing her eyes. Opening them, she declared, “There’s another arriving, I have to go. Good luck.” And she blinked out of existence, leaving a room full of stunned people and the soft noises of a hospital room.