ST MUCKYMUCK: March 2011

Sunday, 27 March 2011

St Muckymuck - Episode 42 - Pppp...pppick up a Penguin

Episode 42 St Pulcharius Seminary – The Presbetery 8.24pm

“So,” continued Father Gabriel, sipping his tea. “She was having an affair with the Bishop who had just broken things off with his boyfriend......”

“Gabriel.” Eamonn’s tone was firm. “Where did you hear this?”

“In the confessional...” replied Gabriel, “and then when the baby was born, it had two....”

“I thought we’d decided you weren’t going to do that anymore” Eamonn interrupted. ”No more breaking the seal of the confessional.”

Gabriel blushed. “I know.” he said. “But I can’t help it.....it’s the only part of priest school I failed.”

Eamonn stared at him, wearing his favourite hangdog expression, which was at curious odds with the green knitted bobble hat that he was wearing. It was gaily festooned with happy yellow smiley faces round the rim. “It’s a gift from Nettie” Gabriel had said when he handed it to him.

“I hate cats” Eamonn had growled, ungraciously pulling on the hat.

“So” he continued. “How are our plans for the St Mochemoc feast fete coming along? I hope you’re not planning anything involving too much fun....you know I don’t like having fun Gabriel”. The bobble on his hat was bouncing around furiously as he shook his finger at Gabriel.

“Well, now that Eric’s back from wherever he was.....by the way, do you know he wears....” began Gabriel.

“NAW!” interrupted Eamonn, raising his left hand to prevent him making further revelations.

Gabriel looked sheepish. “Sorry Eamonn.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, Father Eric is planning to import four penguins as part of our celebrations.”

“Penguins?” Eamonn looked puzzled.

“Yes, penguins.” said Gabriel. “St Mocheomoc is the patron saint of penguins – surely you knew that? But we don’t want to place too much emphasis on that.”

“Oh right” said Eamonn sourly. “What else?”

“Archbishop Biscotti is going to referee a soccer game between Kilcathclyde Keltic and Brazil, dressed in a penguin suit” said Gabriel proudly.

“Why?” frowned Eamonn, perplexed.

“The choir are having a sponsored sing....” continued Gabriel, perusing his notes.

“I hate choirs” stated Eamonn.

“But we have an excellent Music Director, Shug Grant. He’s American.” said Gabriel.

“I hate Americans” said Eamonn, shrugging his shoulders.

Gabriel looked forlornly at his list of events, hoping for something that would impress Eamonn.

“The Mochelonian Society are going to walk from Mocheomoc’s birthplace, Hodrumoch in the Highlands to the Cathedral, carrying the relics of his relics, dressed as penguins. It’ll take them 94 days.” he said hopefully.

A sneer passed over Eamonn’s lips.

Gabriel gulped.

“You’ll have to come up with something better than that.” said Eamonn.

Gabriel was getting desperate.

“Errr...the choristers of Chris Smith’s One Note Choir are planning a sponsored relay race through the streets of Kilcathclyde. But instead of passing a baton to each other, they’ll pass a penguin.”

Eamonn closed his eyes and shook his head forlornly.

“An exhibition of paintings and sculptures depicting Mocheomoc’s life at the Kilcathclyde School of Pretentiousness.....”

Eamonn brightened slightly. “Now that sounds more like it. What’s in the exhibition?”

“Mostly pictures of penguins, drawn by the children of St Moggies infants’ class....”

Eamonn groaned.

“No more penguins Gabriel. Do you hear? No. More. Penguins.”

The two priests stared silently at each other for a moment.

“Penguin rosaries?” Gabriel smiled wanly.

Father Eamonn got up. He moved swiftly to the door and opened it.

“Go.” he said, holding the door open for Gabriel.

“No, wait....” said Gabriel feeling slightly panicky. “Juggling penguins.”

“Get out” Father Eamonn opened the door wider.

“Synchronised swimming....for penguins...?”

Eamonn raised his left eyebrow.

“Ballet dancing penguins – Penguin Lake! Ouch!” The door hit Gabriel on the bottom as it slammed behind him.

Tuesday, 22 March 2011

St Muckymuck - Episode 41 - Scardey Cats

Thursday 15^th March 7.38pm Outside the church house

Fr Eric leaned against the door of the church house. He was manfully smoking a large cigar, a new habit he had acquired since his recent return to Kilcathclyde. He smiled indulgently as he looked down at his feet where his two faithful friends, Nettie and Chi-Chi sat. All three looked up at the clear night sky, drinking in the full moon which was bathing all of Kilcathclyde in a pale light.

Right above where they stood, a single dazzlingly bright star burst into thousands of tiny twinkles which rained down over the three of them. Father Eric broke into a deep, throaty, masculine laugh as he raised his left hand and waved in the direction of a multi-coloured flashing light, streaking across the inky Kilcathclyde sky. Nettie and Chi-Chi ran round Eric’s muscly legs, bumping into each other with excitement.

The three friends could see something no-one else could. Something special. Something extra terrestrial.

Outside the church hall - 7.41pm

Meanwhile, Shug and Ina were strolling down the pathway towards the church hall, speculating as to what had happened to Bandit and Ginger when they saw the choir who had gathered outside the church hall. They were talking animatedly amongst themselves and pacing anxiously outside the door.

“Do you hear that?” said Bob.

“What can it be?” ventured Emily nervously.

“It’s a ghost.” said Bebe firmly.

“No it’s aliens” said Sister Gertie.

“Don’t be daft” retorted Gladys. “Aliens? In Kilcathclyde? That would never happen!”

“What’s going on here?” interrupted Shug.

Everyone began to talk at once.

“Shhh....Listen!!” hissed Mike, hushing everyone. Shug and Ina pressed their ears to the door. A scratching, scrabbling noise could be heard from behind the door, followed by a low growl.....

Shug and Ina leapt back from the door in terror.

“I don’t like the sound of that.” said Shug nervously. “Back in Oregon, we have a saying....never open a church hall door without a Mexican in front of you....”

At that moment Father Gabriel appeared. In his hands, he had a pack of stale hot cross buns which he handed to Gladys for the choir’s tea break.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Dunno” said Shug, “There’s some really weird noises coming from the hall....scratching, scraping, growling”

“Oh” said Father Gabriel, matter-of-factly. “It’s sounds like Jimmy Jamieson could be in there. He’s on the run from the police. He’s wanted for armed robbery. He held up a bank.”

A deathly hush fell over the choir, as they stared open-mouthed at Fr Gabriel.

Gabriel blinked, gulped and stared back at the choir.

“Jimmy Jamieson?” said Billy Burt incredulously. “The deacon from St Brockets? He robbed a bank?”

“That’s a terrible thing to say Billy Burt.” Gabriel said, nervously pointing at the elderly chorister. “You really shouldn’t be telling tales.....”

“Whaaaa...I never said a word.....it was you!” spluttered Billy Burt.

“It’s alright.” said Gabriel, piously, bowing his head. “We forgive you....but you really shouldn’t be spreading rumours” he said sanctimoniously.

Billy Burt was stung. “Just a minute Father....I didn’t....you...”

“Gotta go!” said Father Gabriel cheerfully, blessing the choir. He hurried off in the direction of the chapel house. “I really must stop doing that...” he murmured to himself.....

He bumped into Father Eric, who was on his way to the church hall.

“Is there some kind of trouble over at the hall Gabriel?” boomed Father Eric.

“Yes...” said Gabriel absent-mindedly. “The choir are hearing things.....ghosts, ghoulies, aliens in the hall. They're are scared to go inside. I’m off. I’m meeting Father Eamonn at St Pulcharious at 8pm. We have to discuss the forthcoming St Mocheomoc celebrations.”

“I’ll sort it.” said Eric firmly. “Come on Nettie, Chi-Chi.”

Eric reached into his pocket. “Oh, by the way, Nettie knitted this for Father Eamonn” said Eric, handing Gabriel a green knitted bobble hat. It had yellow smiley faces crotcheted all around the rim. Father Eamonn was notoriously bad tempered, so the little kitten thought it might cheer him up and make him smile a bit more. What Nettie didn’t know was that Father Eamonn hadn’t cracked a smile since 1983.

Gabriel looked at the hat and shook his head as he approached his top-of-the-range Lexus coupe. Meanwhile, Eric strode purposefully towards the hall, Chi-Chi and Nettie trotting beside him.

“Now, now what’s all this?” he bellowed as he approached the choir, who were nervously trying to concentrate on the vocal warm up Chris had just taught them.

“The church hall’s haunted by a huge hairy halfwit

who’s hung like a humungous horse called Hugh.....”

“Let’s just see what’s in the hall, hmmmm? No need to worry....” soothed Eric as he turned the large round brass handle and opened the enormous wooden door.

Chi-Chi and Nettie galloped inside as Eric turned on the lights.

“Nope, no-one’s here!” cried Eric cheerfully. “In you go!” he herded the choir in. “Nothing to be afraid of....”

“Come on you two!” he called to Nettie and Chi-Chi. “Time for supper!”

Nettie and Chi-Chi were gazing fixedly at the wood panelling which adorned the wall on the far side of the hall. There was a small hole at the bottom of the last panel which the kitten and the little dog stared at, transfixed.

Nettie reached into Chi-Chi’s knitted bag which he always carried round his neck and pulled out a crotcheted blanket measuring 5ft x 4ft which she proceeded to stuff into the hole.

Everyone laughed at the antics of the little knitting kitten. In fact, they were laughing so hard that no-one noticed the blanket being pulled into the hole from the inside......

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

Episode 40: Deliverance

First Sunday in Lent

St. Mocheomoc Cathedral

The bell rang loudly from St. Mocheomoc Cathedral, overlooking the steely-gray River Clyde. People were gathering for the noon mass, most especially the choir. Folks appeared to be moving rather slowly on a Sunday morning following two days of intense snow.

“Can you believe this weather, Ina?” said Shug. The two of them were standing by the radiator next to the organ trying to warm up.

“No, I cannae believe it. After all that sun we had,” she replied.

“Do you think this will reactivate St. Odious’ Curse and send everyone back into Hibernation?” asked Shug, shivering.

“No, I don’t think so. Deacon Walther Wetterberg, the weatherman on a Vatican Direct, said we have to receive 6.66 inches of snow in 666 seconds for the SOC to become activated. We haven’t had that. Yet. This lot,” she said, scanning the nave of the cathedral, “are in the preliminary stages. Us, too, Shug. You can see for yourself.”

Shug looked around the choir. Everyone was looking distinctly groggy. Grace Kelly Perth was sitting in her usual spot with her hand over her forehead. Emily, who usually radiated bright sweetness was gazing up at the altar, her eyes transfixed, out of focus. Chris, the organist, was making his way up the central aisle with a giant cup of coffee from Sam n’ Ella’s café.

“This weather is mince, isn’t it?” he said, approaching Shug and Ina.

“Aye,” said Ina. “Dreadful. Just dreadful. Looks like you’ve come prepared, though,” she continued, pointing at Chris’ cup.

“Would you believe I’ve had six of these this morning already?”

“Wow,” said Shug, amazed. “You’ll be hating life about half way through Fr. Eric’s homily. And the readings are long at this mass, too!”

“Nah!” said Chris. “It’s having no effect whatsoever. I’ve only managed one warm up for this morning.”

“Oh well, we’ll just offer it up for Lent, I suppose,” said Ina, resignedly. “What else can we do?”

The door to the cathedral burst open. Two buffed and handsome men in black suits entered wearing sunglasses, holding walkie-talkies, and chewing gum in a manly way. They looked around the cathedral suspiciously. Then one of them motioned out the door. In a moment, a severe girl entered carrying a clipboard, a pencil, and talking on a mobile phone. Her hair was neatly coiffed in a bun and she wore a grey business suit. She was followed by a handsome lad with black hair and black eyes who was carrying an overnight bag and a large pouf. He was followed by two handsome boys who threw down an emerald green carpet. A third man in black and sunglasses entered holding the hand of a positively glowing Mia Kwan Malone. She threw her hands in the air, struck a pose, and declared, “Good Morning! I’m heeeeeeeerrrrrrreeee!”

“Oh, excellent!” said Ina, cheerfully. “And here I thought we were going to be short on sopranos.” Mia and her entourage got settled and Chris began the warm ups:

“One smart feller, he felt smart…two smart fellers, they felt smart…”

Fr. Gabriel came out from the sacristy. “Good morning, Shug. Have you seen Eric?”

“No, I haven’t. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I did see him. It’s been several weeks.”

“And what about Bandit and Ginger? Any word?” he asked Shug and Ina, a concerned look coming over him.

“No,” they said together.

“Emma said after the 10 o’clock mass that she was going to go out and look for them this afternoon. She’s going to use her new specs she got. She’s certain she’ll find them,” said Ina.

“Ah, well, we’ll add them to the prayers then. They’ll be fine. Anyway, Emma will find them. But Eric had better arrive for mass soon. I’ve got to go with the Archbishop to St. Pulcherius to plan the St. Mocheomoc Day festivities next weekend. And we’ve got to set up for tea! Eamonn will go apoplectic if we don’t have the biscuits out in time.”

* * *

Outside the cathedral.

As the choir was preparing for the first Sunday in Lent and the bell in the campanile announced that mass would be starting in five minutes, an enormous spaceship lowered and hovered just above ScarlettFriars Street. It was nearly five stories tall and emanated a faint, green glow that was reflected in the snow lying around.

The door to the cathedral burst open of its own accord a second time, the ship rotated open and a long ramp protruded from it. Two figures appeared and began to descend the ramp into the cathedral: a man and a kitten. As they got to the bottom, they turned back toward the ship. A whole group of seven or eight tall, green aliens stood there resembling stick figures and with large oval, dark green eyes and sporting green sweaters.

A robust, resonant voice sounded from the man at the base of the ramp. “You all look splendid in the jumpers that Nettie made for you. They’ve all got the initial of your first name emblazoned on it in three dimensional letters from your native alphabet.” The aliens looked at their sweaters as well as their neighbors’ and nodded, smiling brightly. One of them looked distinctly like a “V.” “Well, we must be going. Thanks for the lift to mass this morning.” The man and the kitten waved and the aliens waved back. He then turned toward the church. The ship rotated shut, there were several deafening blasts from a horn that sounded like “Shave and a haircut” and the ship zoomed away.

“Here comes Fr. Griffiths!” said Bebe.

Grace seemed to come alive and sat up as he came toward the altar. “Why, he’s positively transfigured,” she said, awestruck. “And he’s been working out, I dare say. He looks so…fit.” She growled like a cat.

“Good morning, ladies,” said Fr. Eric. His voice was vibrant, almost enigmatic. He went into the sacristy where he began vesting for mass. Fr. Gabriel came in.

“Oh, there you are, Eric. I’ll be off to the seminary now with Stefano.”

“That’s absolutely fine,” said Eric, adjusting his stoll. “I can handle everything here with no problems whatsoever.”

Fr. Gabriel considered him for a moment. “You look different Eric.....are you using new hair gel?”

As Eric exited the sacristy, he walked past the choir. His robes were definitely fuller and he seemed to shine with a luminescent and gloriously golden shimmer. Grace growled a second time. Quite distinctly she sang, “Can’t help lovin’ that man o’ mine.”

“LOOK!” exclaimed Bonnie Belle. “There’s that wee Nettie! She’s soooo cute, isn’t she?”

Sunday, 13 March 2011

Episode 39: Bandit: A History

Monday afternoon

Kilcathclyde Cat Cotillion Veterinary Hospital

As the two cats took in the afternoon sun in vet’s solarium following their routine examinations, they discussed their pasts. It was now Bandit’s turn.

“What about your life?” continued Ginger.

“Well, I was born in a town in the San Francisco Bay Area called Antioch,” said Bandit.

“That’s where that girl was held hostage in some guy’s backyard for eighteen years, innit?” asked Ginger.

Bandit rolled his large and luminescent green eyes. “Yes, it is and it’s a shame that’s what it’s known for. Antioch’s actually very old…” Ginger threw his head back and laughed so loudly and for so long that Bandit looked annoyed with him.

“What?” he asked, bristling.

“Old? Something in America? OLD?” Ginger laughed again. Soon, he began to cough. “I’ve got to stop smoking…” he said, laughing still while coughing.

“Yes, you should!” said Bandit moving behind Ginger and patting him on the back. Ginger’s cough eased.

“Go on,” said Ginger.

“Where was I?” he paused thinking. “Oh yes…Antioch…old…” Ginger began to giggle.

“OK – old for California! Antioch’s one of the oldest towns in Contra Costa County, I’ll have you know!”

“Yeah, right!” said Ginger, coughing once.

“Anyway, I was born in the East County Animal Shelter and Hospital on September 11.”

Ginger’s eyes widened. “Oooooh!”

“Yes!” replied Bandit, nodding. “I am a 9/11 baby.”

“That was a dreadful day. Dreadful day. Terrible what happened,” said Ginger. Both cats bowed their heads for a moment then made the Sign of the Cross, in all seriousness and respect.

“I was the youngest of three boys. My Mother died giving birth to me because I was a breech kitten.”

Ginger’s eyes rounded. “Oh, that’s so sad.”

“I was adopted by an elderly woman in Antioch by the name of Hortence Prater.”

“Whoa!” said ginger. “What a name!” They both laughed. “Almost as bad as Senga…”

“Yeah,” said Bandit, patting Ginger on the back as he began to cough.

“Or Myra!” they chorused together, positively howling.

“When Hortence died,” said Bandit when they had stopped laughing. “I went to live with her niece, Evelyn. She was nice enough but she was a very severe alcoholic and a smoker and never fed me.”

“How did you eat, then?”

“I figured out how to open the food cans using the electric can opener.”

“Well done, you, clever boy!” said Ginger needling Bandit in the ribs.

“Thank you,” said Bandit, meekly. “One night, Evelyn passed out from drinking with a cigarette in her hand. The place caught fire and I called 911 and they came and took her away. This gave me the opportunity to move across the street. The little girl who lived there, Sierra, adopted me and I lived there two years until Sierra’s parents divorced. Then we all moved in with Sierra’s grandmother. And she was absolutely horrible. She hated cats and was scared of us. She beat me with the broom and vacuum cleaner hose whenever she could. Horrible woman!”

“Bitch!” said Ginger.

“And that’s being polite!”

“What happened after that?”

“Sierra’s mom panicked when one night the old bat threatened to kill me with the garden shovel.” Ginger gasped and put a paw over his mouth. “So, I was given to the mom’s boyfriend’s brother. And that is Shug. We moved to Oregon not long after that. Shug applied for a PhD in musical apollogy at the University of Kilcathclyde.

“Why here?”

“He wanted to study with renowned musical apollogist, Rufus O’Twiddelshanks.

“I’ve heard of him,” said Ginger, sitting up. “He’s very famous. He wrote an apollogic letter for Pope Quivox LXXXVI when he was being considered for pope.”

“I didn’t know that. But I’m not surprised,” said Bandit.

Emma burst into the solarium and called to the cats.

“Over here, Emma!” replied Bandit in like voice. Both cats got to their feet. “What’s wrong?

“You’ve got to get out of here, sharpish. Myra Dick’s just come in to the office claiming she’s supposed to pick you up for Shug and Ina. The backdoor’s open. GO!”

“Can’t you stop her?”

“I’m doing my best at stalling to give you time to go. I’ll use my DJ on her if I have to.”

“What’s DJ?” asked Ginger.

“Dutch Jujitsu. Now GET OUT!” They went to the back door, which was ajar.

“But I’m not allowed outside!” said Bandit. There was the loud wail followed by a thud and then the unmistakable sound of smashing wood. Both cats stared in the direction of the sound. “I hope that’s Emma walloping Myra.”

“Don’ worry, I’ll keep you right!” And the two of them made their way into the filtered, Kilcathclydian sunshine.

Saturday, 12 March 2011

St Muckymuck - Episode 38 - Back In The Hood

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.

St Mocheomoc Church Hall - Thursday 8th March 6.16pm

The choir were gathering at the hall for choir practice. Ina had awoken from her state of hibernation and was back in her self-appointed position as the conductor of the choir.

She was more soberly dressed than usual, having overcome her sex addiction with the help of some intense aversion therapy.

Unfortunately her mood and foul temper had not improved and several members of the choir had felt the sharp end of her tongue tonight already. Ina stood at the front of the hall, glowering at everyone, especially Shug.

“Right folks – gather round!” Chris’ voice boomed and resonated throughout the church hall.

“Warm-up time!”

Everyone dropped their tea and coffee cups and dashed excitedly to their chairs, expertly laid out by Sister Gertie who’d been at the hall since 2.33pm that afternoon, experimenting with different seating plans.

“Jenny juggles jellies
Jiggles jamjars ooh!
When Jenny’s jellies juggle
Her jugs jiggle too”

“Right” interrupted Shug after 45 minutes of warm-ups. “Take out your “Hymns Old, New and Never” and turn to hymn number 987a, “Jesus Was Quite a Nice Chap With a Lovely Beard”.

The choir murmured their approval. It was one of their favourites.

“Please notice how this hymn alternates between simple and compound time.” continued Shug. “It also changes key eight times within its fourteen verses. It has parallel octaves within the contrapuntal accompaniment and is both an ostinato and a canon. The technical term to describe this hymn is Quasi Spazzatura. We shall sing it to the tune of The Old 100^th.”

The choir stared at Shug, puzzled. They blinked.

Ina looked at Shug askance. She was sure he was making those terms up just to sound knowledgable.

“For chrissakes Shug....get on with it!” she barked, exasperated.

Shug raised his left hand, preparing to conduct. The choir began to sing.

“Jesus was quite a nice chaaaaappppp
And he had a lovely beeaaarrddd.
He often used to visit the siiiiicckkk
And when he left, they were visibly cheeeered.”

“Jesus had a very nice muuuummm...
She wouldn’t let him be a buuuumm
She taught him to behave himseeeelf
Just like a charming, cute wee eeeelf.

Yes! Jesus was quite a nice chap”

Before the choir could sing the next line there was a loud bang as the heavy wooden entrance doors to the hall slammed open against the artexed walls of the hall.

The crackling of voices on radios could be heard as everyone turned round to see what the noise was.

Two tall, muscly security guards, both sporting reflective sunglasses and wearing earpieces stood side by side, arms folded over their broad chests as smoke blew in through the open doors from the dark, foggy night. The one on the left was called Julian and the one on the right was called Hilary.

Emerging from the smoke was a slim, short woman, dressed in a beautiful sapphire coloured, shimmering evening gown. Her glossy black hair was piled artistically on top of her head, perfectly framing her tanned, even featured face which was professionally made up, her lips a scarlet slash revealing gleaming, straight, pearly white teeth.

She paused, waiting to ensure everyone in the room was looking at her, then threw her arms theatrically in the air, parted her glossed lips and cried musically “I’M BAAACCKKK!” Her white ermine wrap fell dramatically from her shoulders, revealing an artificially high, pert bosom, enclosed within the fitted, glamorous dress.

“I don’t believe it!” exclaimed Shug. “It’s Mia! My close, good friend, Mia Kwan Malone!” he gushed. He ran to her, arms wide anticipating a warm embrace from his fellow Oregonian.

Momentarily panic-stricken, Mia turned to Julian, hissing “who’s the gayboy....??”

“Shug” he mouthed.

“Wha.....”

“Chug Darling!” Mia pretended to embrace Shug then pushed him away and turned away from his kiss. “Don’t smudge my lippie!” she growled at him.

Shug looked crestfallen.

“Have you kept my usual seat at the front for me sweetie?” she cooed at Sister Gertie. She walked down the full length of the hall, waving regally at Emily, Bonnie Belle, Felicity and Grace who curtsied in tandem as she passed them.

Mia who was still waving and smiling at the choristers didn’t see Ina standing at the front of the hall, hands on hips, her equally impressive bosom pushed out in front of her.

Mia turned to take her seat, and was surprised to find herself nose to nose, bosom to bosom, stiletto to stiletto with Ina.

“Ina!” exclaimed Mia. “Why, aren’t you looking well......for a woman of 65!” she muttered under her breath.

“Do I know you?” drawled Ina.

“Ina, it’s me – Mia – your old friend and sparring partner” Mia giggled, giving Ina a playful push on the shoulder.

“Mia?” said Ina with mock incredulity. “Is that you underneath all that botox? Isn’t it marvellous what they can do nowadays.....you look so.....young! Not a day under 59!”

Mia stared at Ina, outraged, although her unmoveable visage belied her anger.

“BITCH!” she growled.....

“Ladies, ladies” Chris the organist stepped in between the two women. “Come along now....be frien......Ooohhhh!” he exclaimed, feeling a hand squeeze his bottom. He looked from Ina to Mia, back to Ina, unsure who the culprit was.

Shug slapped his left hand over his eyes......."Please Lord, no......not again.....”

Mia smiled sweetly. It was the only expression she had.

©2011 Steven Gorman. All rights reserved.

Friday, 11 March 2011

St Muckymuck - Episode 37 - You'll Never Walk Alone

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.

Chapel House March 5th 11.42pm

“Alright Chi-Chi, alright!” said Father Gabriel impatiently. “Can’t you wait til the end of the football?”

The little dog was scratching and scraping frantically at the chapel house door. Every night since Father Eric and Nettie had disappeared, Chi-Chi demanded to be taken out for walkies at precisely 11.43pm.

Gabriel reached over and turned off the tv, sighing as he missed the end of the football match. It was the European Cup Final beamed live by satellite from the football field behind Kilcathclyde’s local primary school.

His favourite team, the Kilcathclyde Kelts was beating Inter Milan an astonishing 33 – 1 with only eight minutes to go. Father Gabriel had asked his parishioners to pray for a home win and, “well” he mused piously, “one should never underestimate the power of prayer.”

He chuckled to himself as he got up, remembering the little wager he’d put on at the local bookmakers Yule B. Broke. If Kilcathclyde Kelts won, he’d receive an amazing £579,034 in return for his £2 bet.

Gabriel donned his Burberry overcoat, opened the chapel house door and let the little dog pull him in the direction of St Bunnicula Square where Chi-Chi sat on the cobbles staring up at the sky. He gazed at the stars for a few minutes, then on the stroke of midnight, let out a little bark, jumped into the air and trotted off back to the Chapel house, pulling a yawning and bemused Father Gabriel behind him. It was the same routine every night.

When they got back to the chapel house, Chi-Chi trotted up to Father Eric’s room, leapt onto the immaculately made bed and snuggled down atop Eric’s flannelette pyjamas, embroidered with images of St Mocheomoi.

Gabriel stood at the foot of the stairs, shaking his head, bemused. He wondered briefly where Eric and Nettie were.

He had checked with all the retreats, abbeys and monasteries of Scotland, especially Father Eric’s favourites, Inchmahooch Priory and Crossmapouch Friary, but no-one had seen or heard from him.

“Yes, a bit worrying.....” thought Gabriel absent-mindedly, turning the tv back on, expecting to enjoy the frantic celebrations of the 27,000 home fans as Kilcathclyde Kelts lifted the European Cup. He frowned as he caught sight of the final scoreline. Kilcathclyde 33 – Inter Milan 34.

“Aw bugger!” he cursed, throwing the remote control at the tv.

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