Episode Five: A Fistful of Bishops: Turn Six: Not Entirely Alone!
A Road Outside the Village of Ardglass…
Proceed solemnly to the Area where our destination was supposed to be. Upon reaching there, start an Opening Mass before the main event.
"Oh bother," remarks
Father Tiruin, quite alone on a road somewhere outside the village of Ardglass.
"Quite alone now, hmm? Perhaps now I've got time to prepare my speech. Just a while that'a'way to the Stone..."He realises there is nothing for it but to make his way to the Holy Stone of Clonfeckert and hope to get there before the Relic Regrading Ceremony begins, perhaps quickly going over his Relic Regrading Ceremony speech on the way.
He sets off.
Suddenly he notices – is that? Ooh! Yes! I say!
The General Vicinity of the Holy Stone of Clonfeckert…
Gently encourage the bishop to get up and go to the site.
Somewhat nearer the Holy Stone of Clonfeckert, but still several metres away from it and overlooking the magnificent ocean, Bishop Fachs has found a bench.
"Oh yes, Bishop, it's all right there in the Bible, good book that it is? The-"”Good book!” splutters Bishop Fachs, coughing out the deep drag he’d been busy with.
”Good book?! If it was so feckin’ good, why didn’t He write it in feckin’ Irish? Eh? If this is God’s own feckin’ country, He’d have feckin’ wrote it in feckin’ Irish! Eh!”The Bishop stops to take another drag and
Father Lars seizes his chance.
"Er, yes, Bishop. Very interesting. That’s very nice and all, but do recall we have a job here? Wouldn't want to disappoint the masses. Hey-"”Hohoho! Very good! The masses! I see what you did there! Like what we do! Masses! Get it?! Ahahahahha!”The Bishop keels over sideways on his bench, giggling uncontrollably to himself. Father Lars tries one desperate last shot.
"Hey, afterwards, we should find ourselves some more heathens to convert, aye?"”Heathens! Ohohohohoho! Heathens! Eh-heeheeheeheeheehee! Those feckin’ gobshites! No better’n a great pile of arse!”…Bishop Fachs rolls off his bench and continues his fit of hysteria on the ground.
>Humbly request a sip/swig/pull (in ascending order of likeliness) of whiskey from Bishop Jordan!
> Then scout around for the burrow of some sort of, well, burrowing creature, like a badger or mole or whatever the little fecks are called! Then punch 'em in the feckin' snout and yank off their furry hide for use as a makeshift cassock/loincloth!
"Feck! I say, Yer Grace, might I 'ave a sip of that? A bit feckin' chilly out here! ...Oh, right, clothes. Shite an' feck."”Drink! Feck! Gobshite!” blasts Bishop Jordan, punching
Father O’Feckerty in the nose.
”Feckin’ eejit!”…Bishop Jordan jumps on the unfortunate priest, knocking him to the ground and raising his bottle above his head, ready to smash across Father O’Feckerty’s face.
Suddenly the bishop notices a passing badger or mole or whatever the little feck is called! The burrowing creature saves Bishop Jordan’s bottle of whiskey from face-related destruction and flees desperately across the field as the bishop chases it!
Bishop Jordan rugby tackles the running badger and grabs it by the hind legs! He swings the squealing mole above his head as he stumbles drunkenly back towards Father O’Feckerty, now backing nakedly away on the muddy ground!
Bishop Jordan smacks Father O’Feckerty round the face with the badger!
"Is that- ouch!"He hits the priest again, right in the snout!
"Arg! Ouch! Oh bollocks!"He hits the priest in the mouth! The burrowing creature dislodges one of Father O’Feckerty’s teeth!
"Aie! A no?"Bishop Jordan is too busy to reply!
The Burning Cafeteria of the Nearest Department Store in the Village of Ardglass…
Call for the police, the firefighters, the ambulance, call on anyone that might listen (yes, this includes God), and SCREAM for some goddamn help and medical attention and a change of clothes and some better rolls for God's sake.
Oh shite. Serious situation! thinks
Father Errol, fairly accurately, as blood sprays from his hand and the shard of glass pinning him to the table begins to get hotter.
The whole cafeteria, he notices, seems to be getting hotter.
Probably due to the spreading flames, he realises.
Time for action, he decides.
”SHITE! GET THE FECKIN’ POLICE! GET A FIRE ENGINE! GET A FECKIN’ AMBULANCE! OH COME ON, GOD! I NEED SOME FECKIN’ HELP!”…A fire alarm starts ringing!
A distant police siren starts sirening!
An approaching ambulance starts wailing!
A member of the public runs up, wielding a first aid kit, and bandages Father Errol’s horrifically bleeding hand!
A shop assistant arrives, wielding an overcoat, and drapes it over Father Errol’s horrifically naked body!
A cafeteria waitress comes near, wielding several of the cafeteria’s finest bread rolls, and throws them at Father Errol’s horrifically confused face!
Suddenly a fireman dashes over to Father Errol, whips out the shard of glass, and removes the priest from the table, carries him from the burning department store, and sets him on the ground outside.
Father Errol’s bleeding leg gives in and he collapses face first onto the floor.
A Road Outside the Village of Ardglass…
…If one was driving along a certain road, somewhere outside the village of Ardglass, the casual observer might happen to notice what seems to be a priest, deep in conversation at the side of the road.
”So you see um, what was particularly interesting about this piece of wood, like your good self, was the grain was particularly spaced out…”A somewhat one-sided conversation, it would probably be noted.
”But anyway, I found that the best paintbrush for optimal application of the creosote was one that was exactly three point five inches across and half an inch deep and four inches long, because, you know, this meant that I could get a good amount of the treatment on without dropping too much on the grass and of course, Mrs McNeil, she loves making the tea but she’s not terribly good with the garden – did I tell you about the time that she had to redo the lawn after I attempted to tile the bathroom? Terrible shame it was, she was in hospital for several months…”One might even, if one slowed down very slightly, notice that
Father Tiruin, for it is he, appears to be deep in conversation with a fencepost.
”But eventually she got the last mole out, and I managed to claim the shovels on expenses from the parish budget so, you know, I suppose it was ok, and Mrs McNeil had a few weeks of rest too. Anyway, how about you, what’s your preferred paper size? I like the traditional ones meself… Ooh, but I’m getting distracted again. D’you like a good Mass? Would you like to hear one?”One priest is naked! One cafeteria is burning!
Father Lars 9
Father Errol 5
Father O'Feckerty 2
Father Tiruin 2
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Topic: Roll to Priest: The End. (Read 68889 times)