Nancy’s Play Date

Nancy Pretty came to the Palace for a play date.  She brought her pictures and wore a pretty dress.  She showed her pictures to everyone and pointed out who was who.  Here was her husband, and here were the kids, and here a grand child or two.  The Pope smiled and shook her hand and whispered in her ear.  “You and your family all look grand, but I have something to tell you my dear that I’m afraid you won’t like to hear.”

Nancy’s smile faded while an ugly frown creased her brow.  She whispered back to the kindly old man, “Please don’t tell me that now.  I’m having such fun playing pretend that I am a good Catholic, you see.  I really don’t want all that to end, the robes and the incense, the sweet fantasy.  Just look at my pictures and I’ll kiss your ring and then go away.  I’ll tell everyone how nice it all was.  Oh, and have someone spray the place.  I keep hearing flies buzz.””

He stopped smiling, but gripped her hand still and looked his most fatherly look.  She closed her mouth and with a grimace tried pulling away, thinking “This isn’t the game I wish to play.  It’s not fair.  He’s mean.  He won’t let me enjoy the day.”

“Child,” he began, in a soft gentle voice, “please hear what I have to say.  Danger and death are closing on you, and blood is on your hands.  You have chosen a path to walk at home that will lead to hot barren lands where many souls cry for relief but receive agony at Satan’s foul hands.  Stop, while you may, your foolish support for death and come home at last to the light.  Your dark decision to to continue your way will lead only deeper to night.”

“Thank you, Pope,” said Nancy, now bitter at having her whole day ruined.  “I wanted to come here simply to see you and have a nice afternoon.  Now everyone knows that you hate me, and I now I must hate you too.  I hate everything you’ve said to me, and I hate everything that you do.  I’m leaving your palace and taking my pictures and throwing away my dress.  I’ll never come back here, never again!”

She twisted her hand from the Pope’s hand and turned with a toss of her head.  She walked to the door of the room they were in and through it and out in the air.  Back in the room, there appeared a man with a can of spray for the flies.  The Pope raised his hand and waved him away.  “They’re gone,” he said.  “They’re with poor Nancy…outside.”

(NOTE:  This is of course all fiction, and I sincerely hope nothing of the sort ever happened.  It is a small and impoverished hope ranked against the incorrigible and  towering arrogance and ignorance of the pampered and powerful, poor Nancy and her ilk.)


3 responses to “Nancy’s Play Date

  1. Great stuff!

  2. Peter, your faantasy is probably not to far off, but Nancy has the support of bishops and priests which aid her to keep on the same track. Only our prayers for the pope will help him deal wtith this root of the problem

  3. Hello Father,

    I am not surprised to hear you say it.

    I do pray for him. It’s a job that needs plenty of help in the form of prayer.

    Stay with Mom.


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