My first short story- "The Pope"

Pretty long, but quite funny, if I do say so myself. Feel free to criticize as freely as you wish.

Helvetica was a small town in the middle of nowhere. You could tell it was small, because it was named after a computer font. Now if you can find me a big town named after a computer font, IÕll eat seven oxen on a chocolate pole.
However small, Helvetica was a nice place to live, and a great place to raise oneÕs chirrun. There was lots of shade- big, blossoming springtime trees and tall, wise oaks littered the ground with petals and acorns. The shady streets were quiet, except for the occasional laugh of kids playing street hockey or selling lemonade. The center of town was at the intersection of Hayes Road and Route 84, where a few small businesses had set up on the corners. One could see through the windows the jovial local merchants shining metal plates and chatting with customers.
It was on this corner, just in front of HenleyÕs Gravy Shop, that Pope Claudius I spent most of the day.
The Pope was a wrinkled, scruffy man, thinner then a skeleton, and often appearing to be far more forlorn. He had huge, diluted brown beads for eyes, and his lips were thicker then than two fat slugs on a damp log. On top of his head lay a tangled knot of hair that was unexplainably nappy, and one long, hoary lock twisted down his back like a Babylonian serpent. His robes were tattered and stained; their once sparkling scarlet leaf had been decayed and dirtied by years of heathens and trucks passing through mud puddles on rainy days.
And this day was such a day for His Holiness, who was sitting on his usual throne in front of HenleyÕs. His throne was made of cardboard and scrap metal, as the Pope was once quoted in saying that Òonly the best quality of materials are suitable for the making of thrones.Ó
Claudius was absorbing his subjects, as always. A woman passed by, Mrs. Ketching. Mrs. Ketching was a talking, smiling, trundle wheel of a woman, who seemed more to roll down the street then she did walk. Maybe, His Holiness guessed later, that this was due to the fact that she was in a wheelchair.
ÒHello, Darrell!Ó She babbled the words slowly and softly, in a typically polite feminine voice, and gave him a fake smile.
ÒTHATÕS POPE CLAUDIUS THE FIRST TO YOU!Ó Claudius bellowed. ÒIÕLL BET YOU GOT YOUR RELIGIOUS EDUCATION FROM SATAN HIMSELF, YOU TWISTED WRETCH OF A WOMAN!Ó
Mrs. Ketching just rolled her eyes, as if she was used to this by now. ÒDarrell, youÕre not the pope.Ó She sighed. ÒHe lives in The Vatican.Ó
ÒTHAT MAN IS AN IMPOSTOR!Ó Claudius shook his scepter furiously ( The scepter was made of oak, collected fresh off of the ground from under HelveticaÕs largest and oldest oak tree. His Holiness was quoted as saying that Òonly sticks from the finest trees can be found competent in the making of sceptersÓ). ÒI SUGGEST YOU READ YOUR BIBLE AND BRING UNTO ME GIFTS OF GREAT VALUE THE NEXT TIME YOU PASS, AND I SHALL SHOWER YOU WITH GODÕS LOVE!Ó
Mrs. Ketching was already a half-block down the street. Claudius wedged himself back into his seat in a disgruntled manner. It seemed to him as if no one in this town even cared about God or Religion any more. Last week, he had seen some teenagers smoking hemp in the church, and had pursued them furiously with a hatchet he was wielding at the time, threatening to chop off their heathen heads. He would have done it, too, had he not been pursued likewise by the police.
If there was one thing His Holiness hated more then anything else in the world, it was teenagers. In fact, Pope Claudius had declared them a sin almost 5 full years ago, and was outraged even more at the morals of the town that there were still as many teenagers in Helvetica as there were then. He wouldÕve gotten rid of them all himself, if it weren't for the damn police.
The police only made everything worse for His Holiness. They were always fining him, it seemed like at least once a month. Indeed, rumors were that the force was saving up the money from ClaudiusÕs fines to build a jail, so they would not have to fine him anymore.
Now another familiar face came down the street. It was Mr. Jacobs, a scaly old sack who was more corpulent then a colossal cream puff, although surely more dry and bitter in taste. Rumor had it that Mr. Jacobs was a good 350 years old. Although this age seems beyond the realm of possibility, the people of Helvetica were a gullible bunch, who had no time for facts or science.
ÒHAIL CLAUDIUS THE FIRST, POPE AND LEADER OF THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH!Ó ClaudiusÕs words resonated so deeply as to knock over all the pins in the local bowling alley across the street.
ÒYou ainÕ no Cat-o-lick. You ainÕt even no Protistint. YousÕ jusÕ a bagÕer nothinÕ, is whats yous is.Ó The old man spoke as if his words were slowly being pushed from him through the turning on an old, rusty crank.
ÒGO READ YOUR BIBLE, HERETIC, AND COME BACK WITH MORE RESPECT FOR THOSE CLOSER TO GOD!Ó Claudius shrieked.
ÒYouÕs namÕd Darrel, and yousÕ a crazee man. IÕn gunna tell mÕ chirrun nevaÕ ter pass you on dis street agin!Ó The old man cranked.
ÒFOOL! MAY YOU FEEL SATAN GRIP YOUR SHOULDERS AND PULL YOU DOWN TO HELL!Ó
ÒOÕ yea... Darrel, I thinks IÕs had enoÕfÕyo screeminsÕ nÕ shoutins! IÕm gonna keel you!Ó
ÒIÕLL KILL YOU FIRST, SCORNFUL HEATHEN!Ó
With that, the old man threw down his bag and reached for the knife in his pocket. Claudius brandished his stick as he stumbled towards Mr. Jacobs. It was quite a spectacle to see the fat old man and the skinny pope in such an impromptu showdown, and people wouldÕve gathered to watch had not the pope quickly smashed Mr. Jacobs square in his morbidly obese stomach with a mighty blow that could make a yeti quiver and yowl in pain. The old man fell moaning to the ground, and His Holiness leapt wildly over him, in preparation to ram his scepter straight into the sludge of guts in the old manÕs stomach. Just as the scepter was coming down, Claudius was yanked from behind. It was Officer Davis, who had just left HenleyÕs after purchasing some gravy for his mother.
ÒDarrell, IÕve seen you do a lot of crazy things in this town, but I never thought IÕd actually witness you attempting murder!Ó Officer Davis barked. He was much like a dog ( most accurately, a German Shepherd); his large nose was carved into a sort of snout, he was husky and well-built, and he barked mono tonally when he spoke.
ÒTHIS MAN IS A CRIMINAL, OFFICER! HE HAS COMMITTED CRIMES AGAINST THE CHURCH, AND DESERVES TO BE BURNED AT THE STAKE AT ONCE!Ó
ÒI ainÕ no crimÕnal. IÕus just walkinÕ down dÕ street anÕ dis lunÕtic up an beats me with thÕ big stick!Ó Mr. Jacobs gasped from the sidewalk below.
ÒIÕm afraid weÕre going to have to fine you again, Darrell. In most places youÕd be serving heavy jail time for what youÕve done, and you definitely will here when we actually raise the money to build the jail.Ó
ÒBLASPHEMY!Ó Claudius thundered. ÒONLY A SORRY EXCUSE OF A LAW ENFORCER WOULD DARE BRING SUCH CHARGES AGAINST THE MIGHTY POPE CLAUDIUS THE FIRST!Ó
Officer Davis just rolled his eyes and handed Claudius a fine from his checkbook. The police in Helvetica were very simple- instead of actually purchasing official fine slips, the force owned a big stamp that said ÒFINEÓ on it in huge, red block letters. They usually just stamped this onto blank checks, along with the amount of money the fine was for.
His Holiness looked at the fine. It was the largest he had received, at 2,380 dollars and 54 cents. Claudius had just spent the last of his money on a bottle of polish for his robes, which had been mistakenly filled with maple syrup. However, that situation couldn't even compare to this one in stickiness.
ÒI REFUSE TO PAY THIS FINE!Ó Claudius blasted at Officer Davis, who was halfway across the street. ÒAND FURTHER, I DECLARE ALL FINES TO BE SINS AGAINST OUR LORD AND SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST!Ó
With that, His Holiness spit his blessed saliva onto the stiff, pink slip of paper and tore it into pieces. Just as the Officer was turning to confront him, his canine face was smashed in by the end of the His HolinessÕs mighty scepter. For a skinny guy, Pope Claudius I had quite a powerful arm. OneÕs only guess at why must be that he was divinely blessed. As Officer Davis held his bleeding face and reached for his gun, Claudius took off.
The officer fired a few shots into the air, one of which hit a migrating falcon, but none of which managed to graze His Holiness. The Pope dashed down Main Street, swinging his scepter wildly at all the heathens that blocked his path. Officer Davis called desperately for backup, but the other officers were delayed by the annual ÒStudents for the Prevention of Street CrimeÓ parade. At this point, many of the Policemen realized the sheer ignorance involved in building a police station at the end of a dead end street.
Finally, after many minutes of swinging his staff aimlessly and cursing all the heathens in sight, Claudius reached the church, his long, tangled robes in tow. The church was located at 65 Lucifer Street, and had been out of service for at least 20 years. His Holiness rushed inside and bolted the door closed. An uncharacteristically warm smile came over the PopeÕs face, as he observed that his entire congregation had shown up today. On the back pew sat Gillian B. Congo, a large, dusty gorilla with browning hair and ivory teeth. GillianÕs soul was just as pure as it was the day the taxidermist stuffed it in. Claudius felt especially proud of himself for successfully saving Mr. Congo from the awful place he lived, which was run by scientists and historians, godless heathens who many of, it is said, believed in such nonsense as evolution and dinosaurs. Still others believed in the even more sinful concept of reading books or playing music for pleasure. Mr. Congo was a very religious gorilla, perfectly prudent in his ways. Surely his soul would receive its reward in heaven.
All the other members of the congregation were also sitting serenely and attentively. They included Pow Wow the Wooden Indian, whose soul was saved from a cigar shop in Bloomsdale, Travis, who was a truck tire, Mrs. Wallace, a cardboard cutout of a woman advertising a local fast food joint, and Mrs. Carthage, a middle aged traffic light.
His Holiness ascended the steps to the pulpit slowly and majestically. While the police cars scrambled down the street towards the old church, Claudius I began another impromptu sermon.
ÒGood day, my brothers and sisters in Christ. It is a joy to see all of your faces here on this cloudy day.Ó The PopeÕs voice was much more smooth and convincing whilst he was preaching. ÒIÕm sure weÕre not all enjoying the weather (There arose from the congregation a soft chuckle at this point), but we must all understand that The Lord brings rain upon us just as he often blesses us with sunshine.Ó
ÒToday, I am going to tell you a story. It is not a story from the Bible (a few members who had their Bibles out began to put them away under the pews), but it does have a great spiritual message. I hope you will all listen carefully (His Holiness directed a glance at Marvin the Septic Tank, who had been developing a habit of dozing off in church), as concealed in the story is a powerful message from The Lord.Ó
His Holiness paused to regain breath, and then began to relate the story in a gentle tone.
ÒOnce there was a town. It was a rural town, a quiet town. In fact, my brothers and sisters, it was a town much like this one, in fact. The people of the town were very happy and generous. They gave thanks to The Lord for everything which He blessed upon them, and were continually rewarded with great harvests and beautiful choirs of angels, which would be sent upon them by The Lord to sing hymns for them. They went to church every day, bless their souls, and a Bible could be found at every bedside.
One day, The Lord came upon them and said, ÔYou have been very good, my people. I have sent you bountiful harvests and choirs of beautiful angels. Now I must ask one more thing of you. You may not think of it as important, but this last task is more important than giving thanks to me, your Lord, for all I have given to you. It is even more important than attending church every day.Ó
The congregation looked stunned. Surely there could be nothing more important than those things. But Claudius I was a wise old pope, and he delivered the rest of the message after a dramatic pause.
ÒThat is to love everyone around you, to lay down your weapons and make peace with your enemies, to be a brother or a sister to everyone on earth. This is all that I, The Lord, ask of you. You must lead the way to peace and harmony throughout the world.Õ
However, there arose at this point a protest from the people of the town. They did not want to love their enemies, or to be brothers and sisters to everyone. The only person in the town who accepted The LordÕs message was the priest. Every day in church, the priest would try to convince the people to spread the love of the Lord. He tried to convince the people that the only true way to love God is to love other people. However, the townsfolk would have none of it. Steadily, people stopped going to church, even on Sundays. The pews were empty. The church was silent. There were no more choirs of angels, and there were no more bountiful harvests. The poor priest sat in the church every Sunday, all alone, just hoping that someone would come to church.Ó
At that moment someone did come to church. Or at least, His Holiness figured they mustÕve, as someone was banging at the door. Suddenly, the old oak door split and the blade of an ax came crashing through and smashed against the hard stone floor with a crack. It was the police.
ÒOkay, Darrell, the gigÕs up!Ó shouted Officer Phillips, a lanky man with sharp features and a narrow brow. ÒYou have committed a serious crime, and itÕs high time you were locked up.Ó
The officer moved slowly towards the altar. The Pope swung his scepter wildly.
ÒFOOL!Ó Claudius shouted. ÒIT IS YOU, INFIDEL, THAT HAS COMMITTED A SERIOUS CRIME! YOU HAVE SINNED AGAINST THE LORD! I CONDEMN YOU TO BURN IN HELLFIRE FOREVER! DONÕT YOU KNOW WHO I AM?Ó
ÒI donÕt think you know who you are, Darrell! YouÕre a bum, a sack of shit on the street! I told you myself over twenty years ago that this church was closed down for good, that you had to move on and go somewhere else! You never left it, you crazy old man! You just keep shaking that stick around and preaching to a pile of garbage (the congregation looked quite shocked and offended by this remark. A cry of ÒWell I never!Ó arose from Mrs. Sweetpetal, a transplanted flower bush.)! I think the question is do you know who you are! Who the hell are you, Darrell, who the HELL are you?Ó
The officer had almost reached the altar, and Claudius looked around desperately for an escape. He found none. The Pope knew that he may have to use his scepter.
But, suddenly, he heard a voice in his head. ÒWhy donÕt you just tell them the truth?Ó it whispered. The voice was joined by others, speaking softly and slowly, yet whizzing through his head at lightning speed. His Holiness looked up to see his whole congregation, their lips moving, asking him in unison why he wouldnÕt just tell the officers the truth. They were like a choir of beautiful angels, beautiful angels that were quietly chanting for him to share GodÕs love with the world. Never being unholy enough disobey angels, Claudius did exactly that.
ÒI AM POPE CLAUDIUS I, OF THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH!Ó Claudius thundered, as His Holiness wildly swung his scepter right into the face of Officer Phillips, who was just approaching the altar.

 

Lol, I enjoyed this piece. It was quite entertaining and received a few chuckles. I'm rather curious, how long did this take you to create?

 

Umm... not really all that long. I just sat down and started typing. 2 or 3 hours, maybe.