Slack Slacker Hooks Up Pope Francis
As per any Friday, I'd be calling in sick, scamming an unearned personal day to deal with or recover from some extraordinary circumstance, or simply AWOL, leaving unsuspecting co-workers to cover my ass. But this Friday is different. Rather than running up a bar tab with the Thursday night Slack Pack, concocting a plausible tale to do a bit of harmless goldbricking, I decided to take a vacation from a life of lies. I won't be in today, but you can believe me when I say that Pope Francis is the cause of my absence.
Leaving my favorite Tequila joint on the upper West Side of Manhattan last night, I thought I'd be a gent by walking two regular bar flies, Susie Floozie and Lusty Busty, to their apartment before catching a cab. Exiting the girl's building, I heard the distinct sound of "Psst." I looked around but I didn't see anybody. Again, "Psst!" Still, nobody was seen anywhere. Psssssssst! "WTF? Is that you, your holiness?"
Sitting in some little nondescript, fuel-efficient geek-mobile was Pope Francis himself. In disbelief, I respectfully nodded and inquired why he was chilling alone outside on such a cold night. Presumably ignoring the question, he asked me if I knew any nice girls. I asked, "How nice?" "Well actually, not too nice if you know what I mean," he says. "You dog!" Considering it's probably been a while, I tell him I might be able to hook him up". I got on the cell and asked Susie and Lusty if they'd like to meet a nice guy. They asked, "How nice?" "They don't come any nicer," I say, so they buzzed us into the building, and we headed upstairs.
When Susie opened the door and realized it was Pope Francis in the flesh, she got down on her knees and kissed the Pope's ring. He blessed Susie with his hands on her shoulders, but she didn't seem to rise soon enough for my comfort, so I called out to Lusty for a beer. As soon as Lusty entered the living room, I heard the can of Bud hit the floor, and without so much as a glance my way, she too was on her knees paying oral homage to the Pope's ring.
Okay, this is weird, I think, so I tell the Pope and the girls it's getting late, and I'll be on my way. But Pope Francis said to just wait. He didn't think he'd be much longer, and he'd give me a ride home. Beyond uncomfortable with the situation, I reluctantly took a seat on the sofa as the trio went into one of the bedrooms.
While twittering my thumbs for over five minutes, I noticed mushroom-like snacks on the coffee table and grabbed a few to munch. It wasn't too much later when I heard screams and shouts so loud the building shook to its foundation. "Oh Lord!", "Oh, Jesus?" "Oh my God!" I could hear the girls wailing with unbridled passion. "That's it. Give it to me, baby," I heard the Pope say softly and lovingly. I felt like I was in some dream-like state I couldn't awaken from. This could not be happening, I thought to myself. But it was because the neighbors were beginning to complain.
When the banging on the walls and yelling from the hallways started, I knew it wouldn't be long before somebody called the cops. Pope Francis must have been having the time of his life because no matter how many times I knocked on the door to get them to quiet down, they seemed to get louder and louder. "Put it right here, do it like this, don't stop, tap it from behind" was all that could be heard from within the bedroom. When the walls began to show stress fractures from this wild and wanton menage a trois, I knew I should've gotten out of there sooner.
Opening the apartment door was almost impossible as the building collapsed around me. Once out into the hallway, I could see rescue workers tending the injured, while the police were making a B-line for the girl's apartment. They asked if I knew the source of the disturbance, but when I tried to speak, I realized those mushrooms were more than an innocent snack. Disoriented and confused, I still tried to cover for Pope Francis by telling the authorities that the Pope was performing an exorcism. Brushing me aside like I was some kind of idiot, they entered the apartment.
Guns drawn, the cops scanned the living room before approaching the bedroom door. Just then, Pope Francis came out with Susie and Lusty at his side. All three with pleasant, satisfied, and exhausted expressions on their faces, the Pope told the cops everything was under control. He said, " Some of the flock like their blessings hot," and began to leave. Amazingly, the cops let his holiness go without further questioning, so I left, too.
Later, while standing on the corner waiting for a cab to flag down, the Pope pulls up in his mobile, rolls down the window, and thanks me for the introduction. "No problem, Pope Francis," I say, "but do you think you could give me a lift?" "No problem," he says. By the way, do you know any nice boys? Dazed and bewildered, I decided to walk. C-Ya Monday, I have a lot to think about.
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