"Tell Robert to hurry up." said a Presbyterian who was carrying a bag full of condoms," Time is getting on and we need to have the church shop open before the service finishes."
As usual Robert, who was there to clean, had been taking a bit of time to find fault with his fellow Christians who had a few slightly different weird beliefs to his own. He'd even spent time trying on a holy crown.
Actually, the truth was that this Presbyterian church shop made a far bigger profit than most of its Catholic counterparts. There were far less statues, no rosary beads and only a small stock of altar wine. They seemed to concentrate on carrying a good food range - things like sandwiches, milkshakes and hot chips. As Robert walked past the shop, on his way to mass and carrying a bucket and a mop, the aroma of the hot chips made him think about how much better his life could be as a Presbyterian. After this thought he made a mental note that he should make a quick confession to Father Patrick after mass.
Fr. Patrick - the grinning Catholic. |
He thought up a little song as he walked out into the cold morning air.
Father Patrick, the grinning Catholic,
Doesn't empty bins.
Father Patrick, the grinning Catholic,
Takes away your sins.
Father Patrick, the grinning Catholic,
Doesn't eat hot chips,
Only a communion host
Passes between his lips.
Robert thought that, later that day, he might dress up as Ivan the Terrible and video himself singing this song.
* * *
Peter was still in his Dutch oven (bed) . He had stayed up to watch a group of grown men throwing a ball around - the game was known as rugby.
He had taken to wearing his favourite white cap to bed - hey, don't forget that this is they guy they call 'old four slippers'.
He hasn't needed to buy snacks for years. |
Peter was happy that the All Blacks had won. At school, many, many, many, many years ago, he'd played in a top notch soccer team.
Well, when I say 'top notch', I'm talking about boys who had medical certificates so that they didn't have to play rugby. There was blind Johnny Franks, Willie Docks with his one leg and the extremely fat Brian McKenzie. Peter, with two legs and pretty good vision, had been one of their star players.
* * *
For Richard (of RBB) practice time was approaching. He'd found himself awake in bed last night, before the rugby, and had thought about pentatonic scales on the violin.
He was pleased when the All Blacks won because he'd felt sorry for their coach and captain. He was sure that they'd both done their very best. He wouldn't be going to mass this morning and he wouldn't be wearing four slippers at once. You see, Richard (of RBB) was a normal guy who ran a very successful bass bagging site - a place where both Robert and Peter came to learn about grammar and writing.
Ciao tutti.
4 commenti:
A normal guy and a guy who runs a bass bagging site are mutually exclusive - Shirley.
Just having a Robert Mondavi Private Selection Bourbon Barrel Aged Chardonnay California 2019 because the bloody supermarket had run out of Cleanskin Chardonnay.😥
Slumming it tonight. 😥
Ha ha - slippery slope.
You can always reverse mortgage the house to finance your wicked and expensive habit.
That sounds like something that prat Father Patrick might say.
Hey!
Here's a thought - are you Father Patrick?
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