A Sanbenito for Sister Mike!
A Fr. Dan Kelly™ Online Serial Novel
Chapter 6
To Domesticate a MAN-GOD!How simple the solution was to escaping Fr. Dan's entrapment in the body of a massively muscled virgin geek. Indeed, an escape plotted for Our Priest by Einstein, Da Vinci, and Isaac Newton's brains all mushed together would be but a stumbling village idiot's rudest rectal blurt besides the crafty and cunning plan Fr. Dan devised. So simple it was, I daren't reveal it to you, for fear of insulting both our intelligences. Now, let us speak of it no more. Suffice to say, Fr. Dan lost his virginity, beat the tar out of the Baron and the Wad, and had sex with all manners of objects, including each hole in a bowling ball until it burst with pleasure.
Yea, indeed, it was a harrowing and sticky—in the adhesive sense—escape, but now Fr. Dan knelt in the safety of his private chapel, silently murmuring a prayer of gratitude for the Lord's boon, enabling him to evade his foes.
Really, it was such a simple and basic escape. You can't imagine. Dear me. Dear dear me. Oh look at the time! Shall we continue? I have high tea at noon, and grandaunty will be simply furious if I arrive late.
Anywhovian… Finishing his prayer, Fr. Dan stood up and walked to the front door to see if the mail had arrived. It had not, so he trod normally to his sofa and commenced to read the newspaper. From left to right did Our Priest read the paper, recognizing the symbols of the English language forming the words, translating them with Herculean manliness through the power of his superior brain. There was a story about the Middle East. Another about social security. And finally, an amusing photo of a dog roller skating, which caused the Man-God of God to chuckle and tilt his head and utter a darling "Awwwwww…" in deference to its cuteness.
Fr. Dan looked up five minutes later, but the mail had yet to arrive. With great verve and daring, he decided to have lunch. Flourish-free, Our Priest went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator using a bare minimum of power from his steely sinews. To his annoyance, it was time to go shopping again, and he made a mental note to stop by the store to pick up, among other things milk, bread, and cereal, as well as mustard, which he bought more infrequently.
But could things really be so normal?
Fr. Dan hesitated, pondering whether some new adventure was about to begin in earnest even under such unremarkable circumstances. He looked back and forth with his normal vision, allowing the reflected images of the goods in the fridge to enter his pupils and communicate the information to his brain's visual center. Fr. Dan tensed for a moment, which is to say, he made no real motion at all.
Suddenly!
He noted there was plenty of luncheon meat left for a sandwich, with two extra slices of cheddar for good measure. Fr. Dan emitted a grunt of satisfaction and, reaching forward with hands that could crush robots made of asteroids, he took up the cheese, turkey, lettuce, bread, and mustard with the raw determination to craft a sandwich of moderate deliciousness.
"Sandwich," said Fr. Dan with no special emphasis.
At this moment, Fr. Dan's cat strode into the kitchen, moving very slowly as he was slightly overweight for a cat his size. Fr. Dan turned and prepared to meet the beast.
"Hello, cat. Hello. Meow." said Fr. Dan, reaching for the feline. He took him up in his arms of tornadic destruction and, despite the cat's slight "Murf." of protest, began to pat his furry head.
"Meow. Meow," said Fr. Dan. "Good cat. Meow." Fr. Dan stroked the cat of fur, causing the cat's eyes to close and his throat to emit a loud rumbling sound. Fr. Dan put his ear against the cat. The purring pleased him greatly.
"Ha ha! Purrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Purr box! Purpling purple purr box! Ha!" said Fr. Dan. He buried his face in the cat's corpulent fuzzy belly and shook it to and fro!
"Wooga wooga! Oooga wooga wooga!" said Fr. Dan. The cat kvetched, but did not wrest free, allowing itself to be mortified by the face rubbing. Fr. Dan then placed the cat back on the ground. Immediately failing to transform into a Japanese battlebot, the cat walked to a spot where the sun streamed in, laid down, and fell gently asleep.
"Ha ha!" said Fr. Dan, pointing at el gato. "Is cute! Where sandwich?"
The sandwich remained deconstructed, even though time was passing by with no urgency whatsoever.
"Must... make... sandwich!" said Fr. Dan calmly, knowing the fate of the universe was not in his hands. The sandwich resisted not as he carefully, and with the nerves of a bomb disposal expert, inserted the turkey, mustard, and cheese between two slices of multi-grain bread. Laying the top slice down, he picked up and brought the sandwich to his stubbled face.
It was then he saw his nonfatal mistake.
"Whoops," Fr. Dan without special emphasis, "Forgot the lettuce."
Fr. Dan reached for the lettuce which conveniently sat only inches away. He elegantly slipped a leaf of romaine beneath the bread, and all was well.
"Biggy sandwich!" bellowed Fr. Dan! "Yarrrgh!" And he slowly ate it with petite girly bites, dabbing at the side of his mouth with a foppish silk napkin before uttering a mammoth burp.
"BRARRRRRRRKKKKKK!!!" Pop-eyed, Fr. Dan covered his mouth quickly, and then looked around to be sure he had not egregiously violated the laws of etiquette before anyone in the room. The cat cared not, continuing to bask in the glorious golden glowing sunlight, nor was Ms. Post to be found seated nearby, nor even in the refrigerator lettuce crisper. Still, Fr. Dan demanded good breeding from himself, even when only Baby Jesus witnesses his breaches of decorum.
"Excuse me!" shouted Fr. Dan to the multiverse. "OH, EXCUSE ME!!!!!" He fell to his knees and wept, clawing at his face in mortification, his nails forming bloody rivers of ill-mannered boor blood and shameful flesh-jam. Fr. Dan stood up again and howled like King Lear on crystal meth. The cat, annoyed, wandered off to another room.
"EXCUUUUSE ME!!!! AGGGHHH! I AM ASHAMED!!!! ASHAMMMMEEED!!!" Fr. Dan rent his garments and barreled forward, smashing through the wall of the rectory and into the noonday sun. " AHHHHHH!!!!! FORGIVE ME!!!! FORGIVVVVVE MEEEEEEE!!!" No use! The disgust over the taste of digested food bilge that filled his mouth was too much to bear, even if none heard it. When Fr. Dan belched in private, a tree had to die. It must! He ran up to the linden that spread its leafy branches across the whole of the rectory's backyard and punched it! The tree burst into a billion pulpy toothpicks that rained down and speared every passing ant.
"EXCUSE ME!!!! WAHHHHH-HAHAHAHAHAA!!!!!"
Fr. Dan. now bereft of his rainments, ran screaming and naked down Main Street, his dingle-dangle flopping about and knocking aside city buses, lamp posts, and the just and unjust alike. When he reached the city center he crouched into a power-bull-ape stance and launched himself into the sky, screaming his shame. He landed atop the Sears Tower—not the Willis Tower as some would have you think—and seized hold of one of the mighty antenna, wrenching it from its base and then beating himself over the head with it until it broke in half.
Then he sat down on one corner of the Sears Tower’s summit, his butt cheeks clenching to secure his perch. He cried. He cried for all mankind. He cried for the life forms at the furthest reaches of the universe. But especially, he cried for himself.
"Excuse me?" he asked himself quietly. But there was no answer.
"No," whispered the wind to Fr. Dan Kelly. "There is no excuse for you."
Five hours later, Fr. Dan died of a broken heart.
But he felt much better in the morning.