Episode Four: Turn Seven: Between A Lamp Post & A Hard Milk Float!
The Village of Ardglass…
VALIANTLY leap upon the milk float and righten its course! Berate the box-stackers for their sins of impeding the clergy, and how they'll go to hell if they don't stop doing that!
…The Bishop has gone…
Impending doom has arrived!
Rising nakedly from his leguminous hiding place, carrots and onions scatter to the four winds as the valiant
Father Lars shouts to all who can hear.
”Come on chums!“ he cries, before turning his unique mixture of wrath and kindly advice upon some nearby box-stackers.
”One really shouldn’t impede the clergy, you know! Not with all those feckin’ satanic boxes! You’ll go straight to Hell if you don’t stop doing that kind of thing!“Still wagging his holy finger in virulent remonstration, Father Lars dashes across the street without the slightest thought for his own safety, scandalously causing a poor driver a hundred feet away to nearly brake very slightly, and throws himself through the open window of the milk float, still speeding along towards doom and a small fluffy white kitten at exactly four miles per hour.
He lands in
Father Fusco’s lap.
”Oh hello there! You’ll go straight to feckin’ Hell if you stop this bloody thing!“ he warns.
”TURN THE FECKIN’ WHEEL!!“TURN! TURN THE WHEEEEEL!
…Alas, for
Father Fusco is rather too occupied to welcome
Father Lars aboard his milk float of vengeance.
”AHHHHHHHHH!” screams Father Fusco.
”FECKFECKFECKFECKFECKFECKFECKFECKFECKFECKFECKFEEEEEEEEECK!”Ignoring the sudden appearance of a priest in his lap, Father Fusco strains with all his might to right the milk float before it smashes into the lamp post.
He can’t get it under control!
Father Lars grabs one side of the steering wheel.
Father Fusco grabs the other.
They strain with all their priestly force!
They close their eyes in holy terror!
They hear the squeal of metal on metal as the edge of the milk float grinds against the lamp post!
They pray in earnest and genuine thanks to the Lord as the milk float turns away and picks up speed!
The open road lies ahead!
Suddenly filled with a terrible feeling of desperation and worry in the pit of his holy guts, Father Fusco glances up at the rear view mirror.
”Oh thank feck for that!” he breathes.
”The feckin’ kitty’s walking away unscathed! PRAISE THE FECKIN’ LORD!”He turns to Father Lars.
”Erm… Would you mind getting the feck of me feckin’ lap? It looks a bit… well… y’know…”
The Village of Cloonsherevagh Library…
Groan in pain and allow him to come near, then when he tries to handcuff me, try to bloody well convince that I do not have a bomb and am trying to defuse one, ya feck.
…"My feckin leg! My FECKIN LEG!" groans
Father Reilly, resting temporarily on the ground.
Officer Mallarky approaches with his guns and handcuffs.
Suddenly Father Reilly jumps to his feet!
"I don’t have a feckin’ bomb!" he cries, his voice filled with anger.
"I don’t HAVE one, I’m just trying to feckin’ well defuse one, ya feck! You shouldn’t be shooting me, you big feckin’ bollock! You should be helping me save the entire island of Rolly Island from being blasted to smithereens, you big eejit!"”Oh right so. Is that so?”Investigate this incident!
…”That feckin’ well IS feckin’ so, you great feckin’ shite!” exclaims
Father Brown, wandering over to investigate the unfolding incident.
”This little gobshite doesn’t have a bomb! He’s trying to defuse a bomb! MY feckin’ bomb! My feckin’ bomb in me feckin’ pants! Do you want a look?!”Without further ado Father Brown rips off the cassock hiding his holy presence, exposes himself to the police officer, and sprints off as fast as he can in the direction of Ardglass, all the while pushing his tea urn, sloshing scalding hot tea about him as he goes.
Officer Mallarky stares open-mouthed at the weather-beaten buttocks fleeing before him and lowers his weapon, unable to shoot a fleeing naked priest.
”I… er… the… um…”One priest is naked and on another priest’s lap! One priest is half-naked and bleeding! Another is fully naked and pushing a tea urn! One church has been burnt!
THE SPEED OF THE MILK FLOAT IS 4.3 MILES PER HOUR! BEYOND SIX MILES PER HOUR THE SPEED IS TERRIFYINGLY UNCONTROLLABLE!
Mrs Daly – 2 pints
Mrs McDaly – 2 pints
Mrs O’Daly – 7 pints
DRAMA!
Father Fusco 9
Father Lars 6
Father Brown 6
Father Reilly 2
Toaster – I considered two interpretations: leaping at the milk float and using your body as a battering ram to bash it off course, or what actually happened.
(So, uh, I was checking the out of context quotes page and decided to see where the one Yoink most recently quoted was from before I went to bed. Then I laughed so hard I can't fufeckin' sleep. Thanks a lot, la. 
Also PTW.
I ended up binging the whole thread. la, you bastard, now my face, my jaw, and my stomach hurt from laughing so much and I haven't gotten any sleep. I love this so much. XD)
Thanks/sorry SC
Author
Topic: Roll to Priest: The End. (Read 69231 times)