The Retaliation - Episode 4 – A Night out with the Boys

WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL.  ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.  

IN FACT, ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYTHING AT ALL WILL BE REMARKABLY COINCIDENTAL.

Tuesday Nov 26^th 9.38am – the Curial Office

Tartuffo winced as he sat down on the hard leather chair. He was a little tender in the nether regions today. However, he glanced up to the heavens, making a silent prayer of thanks for Virginia, hoping she would stay longer than some of his other “secretaries”.  She knew just how to keep him in line. As she wiggled past his desk with a brisk “Good morning Your Grace” he made another mental note – take some photos of Ginny – for security purposes, naturally....

Fondling his hardwood, he pondered over what had happened to his other secretaries. There was Lola Cumming who left, citing repetitive strain injury as a reason, and Cherry Leatheridge who was last seen pushing a pram with a bouncing baby girl called Stefani along Teithmen’s High Street.  He mused awhile, remembering the young PA from Thailand, Soo King who came, looking for work experience, so young, so innocent, so eager to learn and he was just the man to teach her.  So sad that she was deported back to Thailand when the authorities realised she was only 15......

The shrill ring of the telephone snapped him out of his reverie as he wiped the dribble running down his chin. It was his good friend Bishop Kevin McKivon.

“Kev, you old bugger!” he greeted his buddy. “No, I have to go the laundromat today. My leather thong is being dry cleaned again.  They just can’t get that stain out.  Yes, of course you can borrow it again...” 

Tartuffo and McKivon had been students together at the Caledonia Seminary in Kosovo and had no secrets.  They shared more than just an interest in theology.  They shared a firm belief in discipline.  The firmer, the better.

They were ordained side by side at St Brioche’s parish in Kilmackie in June 1970 and had risen uneventfully and quietly through the ranks of the church, each mirroring the other’s achievements, until they were both Bishops of their own dioceses.  Tartuffo, Bishop of Teithmen, McKivon, Bishop of St Hamish. Only now, Steffano was Archbishop. Kevin didn’t mind. He liked the fact that Steffano overshadowed him. He enjoyed being inferior.

St Hamish was a small parish with a flock of around 350 regulars. It stood in the centre of the village of Auchinhaugh on the banks of Loch Haugh. St Hamish was born in 655AD in the village and founded the first Scottish monastery there named Faughinhaugh Abbey in 678AD. His firm belief that he could walk on water was dispelled when he tragically drowned on Loch Haugh in 691AD whilst reciting the Book of Job in Gaelic.  As a result, he became the patron saint of lochs and Bishop McKivon proudly unveiled a statue to his memory in 1998 on the western side of the loch, locally known as ‘Ochlochs’, which was reputed to be St Hamish’s last sacred utterance.

“So!” boomed McKivon “will you be coming tonight?”

“Beg pardon?” Tartuffo raised his eyebrows, startled.

“To Hot’n’Hard? The new club I told you about on the west side of town.  They’ve got an outdoor torture garden. I’ve always wanted to try one of those. I’ve got free passes for us” McKivon was impatient.

“But I wanted to go to Slammers...” Tartuffo pleaded.

“But all our friends are going to Hot’n’Hard” whined Bishop McKivon. ”Father Ambrose, Deacon Duncan and my new friend Ellis are going. ”

“New friend?...Who...” began Tartuffo uncomfortably.

“Oh sorry Tartie! Got to go. I’m about to be cut....off. Pick me up at 7.33pm....”  And with that, he was gone.

Steffano tried to shake off the feeling of foreboding threatening to overwhelm him.

But like the pain in his derriere, it would not go away.

©2010 Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.