Qayid Aljaysh Juyub

Of priests and demons

.Therefore open your hearts and wallets, that it may be well with you in the heavenly kingdom! ..."

Bishop Cupiditas van Nursia listened to the pious words of Prelate Tetzelsohn on this spring morning in the year of the Lord 2016. The theatrical gestures of the preaching purse-opener also pleased the prince of the church immensely. Ever since video surveillance was introduced in the houses of worship of his diocese for 'security reasons,' the pomp-loving bishop liked to feast live on the sermons of his priesthood. He usually sat quite modestly on his 'Cathedra Petri' like replica throne and sipped his 'Bloody Mary' with relish. Somehow the drink reminded the Episcopalian voyeur of the blood of Christ and, of course, contained only the noblest indigrenzies.

"Most Reverend Sir?"

With a slightly unwilling startle, the chief shepherd looked at his faithful assistant, who in his usual soft-spoken manner had made his way almost silently into the magnificently appointed hall.

"Monsignor Knechter, how many times do I have to tell you to make yourself heard when you enter my office? I almost spilled my drink now!"

"Your Excellency may forgive me for so rudely interrupting your ascetic meditation, but Father Brown has been waiting for his audience in the Carcer Mamertinus for 2 hours now, and I was supposed to notify you when the hours of penitent contemplation had passed."

Perplexed, the slightly alcohol-crazed meditation wonder looked at his servile grinning assistant.

"Brown? Oh, did he criminalize again? But we didn't have to lock the poor guy in the cold, stinking cellar for that. You must have misunderstood something!"

The reprimanded servant smiled a bit more slimy.

"The most reverend sir may forgive me. But that's not the Brown one, it's the other one with the refugees."

"WHAT, the temple desecrator! What a pity that such heretics are not allowed to be chained and flogged nowadays. Let Him, my valiant servant, bring the hardened sinner before me!"

"Very well, most reverend sir. I will swiftly tell the security to bring the heretic!"

"Tell the coppers, my faithful servant in Christ, to bring the sacrilegious one to the Inquisition,  in chains, and not to be too gentle with him!"

"Handcuffs and muzzles, then. Your wish is my command, master!"

The 'maître d'église' smiled graciously and dismissed the lowly clergy with a throwaway gesture.

While the stern prince of the church emptied his blood-red drink in one gulp for the purpose of getting in the mood and ended the live show, the servant wobbled smoothly into his episcopal antechamber office, which had roughly the dimensions of the limited children's room of probably the most famous, youthful Hogwarts pupil of all times or of a lavish living room in Bavarian climes.

Some time later, the servant monsignor and two burly trolls appeared, dressed in garb that resembled the Federal-Papal Guard, but was infinitely more splendid. In the midst of the two hulking and muscular security guards was a somewhat damaged figure in a priestly skirt, whose swollen eyelids shone all sorts of funny violet colors.

"So the corrupt son returns to the punishing father! Damn servant, what is this?"

Horrified, the head shepherd's gaze fell on the pink plush-covered manacles, inwardly cursing his sloppy handling of sex toys, which he had obviously forgotten about at the last event in the mamertine dungeon.

"Most Reverend Sir, unfortunately our guardsmen only possess cable ties and we found these fancy handcuffs next to numerous, phallus-like instruments of torture."

It gradually dawned on the pious bishop where his extra-large and eagerly missed dildo collection had gone.

"Monsignor Knechter, I expected more from you. You should have informed me regarding these blasphemous instruments! Anyway, have the whole thing immediately brought to my private chambers for closer inspection and call me the Vienna Boys Choir! But now to our little heretic!"

Reprovingly, the phallocratic man of God shook his episcopal head, but then smiled nonetheless in the face of a pederastic fantasy that illuminated his holy mind and violently bulged more southerly parts of his magnificent regalia.

"Servant, now carry the charge so that the auto-da-fé may begin!"

The servant performed a deep bow to his master, almost ending in a kind of strange kowtowing. Keeping his balance with difficulty, the Monsignor straightened up with a smile of slimy servility.

"Father Brown, you are charged with having given shelter in the rectory for several months to a so-called 'refugee family' and even with having made our beautiful 'St. Jude's Church' available for their rituals. For this reason ..."

"Let us give you over to the purifying fire!"

Lost in thought in another, more historical fantasy, in which self-conscious women and the sadistic instincts of the pious chief shepherd played a diverse role, van Nursia unconsciously pronounced those words of many of his unworthy predecessors.

The servile accuser, in turn, was reverently silent as usual because of the interruption, but looked at his master a little perplexed after the meaning of those original Christian words became clear.

"Sanctissimum dominum may forgive me, but we have unfortunately already burned the last renegades in the 18th century. If the most reverend Lord so desires, I can quickly call Lord Dementios Brandon whether one cannot make a tiny little exception, because easily 'illegal' becomes 'legal' and 'legal' 'does not give a damn', if the authorities so will it!"

The bishop, torn from his ecclesiastical philosophical train of thought, shook his massive head regretfully.

"He would already do us this favor with certainty, but with this small light, it is not worth the effort."

On the occasion of the successful verse, the clerical poet prince looked triumphantly into the illustrious round.

"Bravo, bravo! Your Excellency is a true poet after all!"

With all sorts of covert gestures, the servant endeavored to signify to the episcopal bodyguards that they too were to pay homage to the lyrical talents of their preceptor. Stupidly, however, the cognitive abilities of the two Swiss Guard cheap copies were not as pronounced as their rather impressive musculature, and so the humanoids remained in stolid silence.

"It's all right servants! Say you minions, have you then embarrassingly shown the way to the sacrilegious?"

"Huh?"

The taller of the two security men - obviously the leading troll - scratched his buttocks rather perplexedly.

"Gentlemen, his Excellency means, did the accused resist and did the guardsmen therefore have to use force?"

Still slightly confused, the security monster looked at the Episcopalian doormat.

"What for gentlemen? Nope, dat guy didn't fight back, but we hit him in the face for Jesus and because he did talk. You Excel can be satisfied now!"

"The prisoner obviously attacked you!"

"Nope..."

"Silentium! Corporal Rottenknecht be silent now and please answer all further questions with 'Yes'!"

Slightly irritated, the usually polite Monsignor regarded his lopsidedly muscled ogre.

"Servant, can we please get back to the heretic and his punishment now! Now, please let your gown shake!"

Despite his beating-related vow of silence, Delinquent felt compelled to break it.

"I am bitterly wronged here! I ..."

Horrified, Knechter looked at the rebellious Father Brown and crossed himself, shuddering. The quick-witted corporal, in turn, slowly raised his paws - Troll No. Two remained rather unconcerned, as he was clearly inferior in intelligence to his superior - to a mighty blow, which, however, did not come to execution, because Nursia, with a gesture well known even to ogres, put a stop to the chastisement.

"Stop! Let us hear how the heretic intends to wriggle out of it! So, you rogue, regale us with your whining!"

"What is going on here is against canon law. Besides, since when is it a crime to give asylum from persecution to fellow believers?"

"Sacrilege! Corporal, silence this blasphemous heretic!"

Holy wrath had literally assaulted the servant of God, so that he forgot his otherwise cowering composure and fell into holy hysteria with his voice rolling over. Again the ornament of the Swiss pseudo-guard raised his misshapen claw and only the innate indolence of the head troll prevented the ordered chastisement before the clerical excellence could intervene.

"Hold your ground, my faithful henchman! Who will be scourged and when, I still decide. I want to know what else the fiend has to report! Afterwards he may receive his hard, but unjust punishment with the flaming fist of the archangel Gabriel. So you bloody Amalekite, go on reciting your spell!"

"The so-called refugee family are Nestorian Christians who are cruelly persecuted in their homeland, Iraq. They have, thanks to infinite bureaucratic wisdom, been locked up in a refugee home with some convinced Islamists, who have regaled the 'infidels' with beheading videos via 'You Tube' in order to convert them to the true faith. Because the situation gradually became life-threatening, they fled to my house of worship to find protection and shelter. Out of Christian charity, as it is commanded, I took them in. By the way, the ‘rituals’ are Christian services!”

“Wretch, you are only making it worse! A priest in my diocese should actually know that one heretic is worse than a thousand pagans, and a heretical service is far more evil than blasphemous pagan rituals or sinister black masses. Now, before we judge you, you may plead in vain for mercy.”

The Holy Spirit, in the form of an almost crusading fury, now overcame the inquisitorial bishop, with whom an enormous episcopal stand now rose in anticipation of the punishment due.

“Perhaps it will interest the bishop to know that in today’s illustrated newspaper there is a detailed account of the good deed?”

The column of Nursia fell back into its pitiful initial state at the game-breakingly unexpected news. After a few minutes of horrified silence, a holy wrath overcame the great man of God at the underappreciated servant.

“KNECHTER, is it true? If so, God have mercy on you!”

As the devil was known to dislike holy water, so the pious bishop thought little of bad publicity.

“Sanctissimum dominum, that is unknown to me! Your Excellency told me not to pay attention to the tabloids of the rabble...er, I mean, of course, the newspapers of the common faithful.”

“Now don’t try to talk your way out of this, servant! What do I care about the nonsense I spouted yesterday regarding my flock heads. I expect you to be up to date. Now off with you, and if you’re not back in five minutes, you can spend the next three days in the Mamertine dungeon.”

While the Monsignor, threatened with episcopal disgrace, escaped from the ceremonial hall with the agility of a weasel, the Prince of the Church, still struggling slightly to regain his composure, turned to the unusual triumvirate.

"Perhaps I should let mercy go before justice after all? After all, our Lord deigned to forgive even the most miserable sinners. You're not lying to me, are you, Brown? For otherwise the heavenly judgment will visit you in the form of the iron fist of my orcs!"

"My faith forbids me to lie, bishop."

Scrutinizingly, the Episcopalian beacon of charity looked at the recalcitrant priest.

"Hear my hashers, free the penitent sinner from his bonds, but keep him well!"

"Huh, yours Excel?"

Perplexed, the corporal shook his bulky head, which, despite its size, obviously contained the brain matter of a not-too-intelligent dinosaur.

"Uncuff him and make sure he doesn't get away!"

"Now I get it!"

Determinedly, the troll-like Rottenknecht grabbed the handcuffs and made a futile effort to break them open with his immense physical strength, though he did give the bound man a few bruises that caused him to groan in suppression.

"Yours Excel, dat does not go! Aristotle, you do it."

Ogre No. 2 now set to work even more clumsily, only to fail miserably as well, orchestrated by Father Brown's suppressed cries of pain.

Meanwhile, van Nursia watched the escape artists' efforts enervatedly and struggled to make a bold decision, but one that didn't carry too much risk given his guardsmen's particular intellectual prowess.

"Enough! By the grace of God, I have here a blessed general's bowl that will loosen all ties."

With pinpoint accuracy, the Episcopalian chief shepherd tossed the commanding troll the well-known handcuff keys, which, however, fell clattering to the ground due to the redcoat's lack of mental insight.

"Huh?"

"My God, make it rain brains! Open the handcuffs with the key!"

"Yours Excel better pray for beer. But now I'll unlock it."

Struggling awkwardly with his balance in the face of his body mass, the corporal picked up the phallus-like key and tried his luck again.

"You've got to be kidding me, this guy is too stupid to open a simple lock. Stop, give the key to Father Brown! Brown, free yourself!"

With an expression as understanding as it was disgusted, the priest quickly unchained himself.

"Brown, may I remind you that you are bound to secrecy."

"Yes bishop. It doesn't make much sense to inform your superiors, but if they let me do my job, that's all I focus on!"

"I see Brown, you are making an effort to leave the path of sin in Christian humility."

The repentant sinner remained pinchedly silent while, literally out of nowhere, the servant appeared, holding the pictorial newspaper like a banner. With the exception of the functionally reading-illiterate guardsmen, those present could make out a bold headline on the front page:

'Church grants asylum to refugees'

"Crucifix, that's where the Savior goes crazy on the cross. Cursed servants, what have these smear-mongers secreted?"

An almost holy panic seized the press-fearing bishop.

"Most Reverend Sir, on the whole, Holy Mother Church is judged very positively. Of course, the article doesn't quite correspond to what the heretic said, since they probably keep quiet about the Salafists for political reasons and turn them into neo-Nazis, but we are very much praised for our politically correct attitude and charity. I'm afraid, Excellency, our heretic is a hero to the mob at the moment."

Hateful, as probably Caiaphas once was at the Christian Messiah, Nursia regarded the bearer of the unpleasant news, probably regretting that in modern times one could not simply have the messenger beheaded.

"I warned you, you false prophet! Minions, seize me the herald of doom and chastise him with a thousand lashes, then throw him into the dungeon!"

"Huh? Shall we smack dat Brown in the face again for Jesus?"

Again, the upper-rolling corporal looked at the furious prince of the church, perplexed.

However, before the chief shepherd could react in his divine anger, the strangely smiling monsignor intervened.

"Your Excellency, before I am joyfully chastised, I would like to remind you of the urgent tasks that need to be discussed following the failed auto-da-fé. Especially with regard to our mediation role in the sale of peace weapons to the Islamic Republic, I need a clear head. It would be inconceivable, O most reverend sir, if one or the other detail should slip out of my mouth at the next press conference. Your Excellency should bear in mind that I am always so unfocused after a physical chastisement."

While the episcopal man of God on his magnificent throne looked at his supposed lackey in complete consternation, Father Brown nevertheless lost his self-control slightly and laughed bitterly.

"Charity commands me to overlook slight transgressions. Very well, servant, you shall be spared for this time, but I will not tolerate further failure. Consider the connections of Holy Mother Church and the punishing hand of God concerning strange deaths."

While the beacon of charity smiled maliciously, the servant bowed deeply with a strangely pleased expression.

"Now to you, my dear Father Brown, you should forgive me for the little inconvenience caused you without my knowledge. Remember that our Savior suffered much more when he died on the cross for the good of the Church. Bad advisors bore false witness, so you should be fully rehabilitated and work so beneficially in public again. As I said before, you should also consider that the wrath of God will strike those who break the sacred silence. I think, my dear Brown, you have understood that?"

With a contemptuous expression the 'ex-heretic' looked at his superior.

"I understand perfectly."

"So be it. Beadle, anoint the Brown, give him a new cassock, and escort him to his congregation!"

"Huh?"

"You cretins are to wash Brown, give him new clothes, and take him to his church!"

"Yup, Excel Shall we hit him in the face with the fist of God?"

"My God, Krethi and Plethi. No, you treat the dear Father Brown politely and if he gets the idea that you clean his ass by licking it, then you do it! Dismissed!"

"Yes, yours Excel!"

After the understanding trolls clenched their knuckles loudly in Prussian tradition, the triumvirate left the scene of the action, leaving van Nursia and Knechter in cosy togetherness.

"My God! Knechter, where did you get these idiots? But you are more cunning than I suspected in all these years. But be careful: if you want to fly too high, the episcopal sun will burn you!"

Again the monsignor smiled peculiarly.

"Servant, see to it that Brown, when grass has grown over the matter, is sent to Sudan for missionary work. He shouldn't survive half a year there and we'll be rid of this troublesome person. For safety's sake, you can tell the authorities there that they may treat him like a native Christian with our blessing! You know, servant, actually I envy people like this Brown. Them with their damned integrity and decency; for my sake let them all perish!"

"Invidia, excellent!"

Beaming with delight, the monsignor looked at his supposed master.

"I beg your pardon? Servant, have you drunk too much measuring wine again?"

"Envy, with it you have the seven deadly sins full. Your pact has expired with it!"

"Damn servant, you are not supposed to inject heroin anymore!"

The head shepherd, concerned for all the wrong reasons, looked at his counterpart almost pityingly.

"I'm afraid I got the servant a short time ago and took his form. If I may introduce myself, my name is Lucicale, executioner and soul collector of Satan. In order to shorten further whining, which I otherwise love very much, I want to answer a question for you, before you go to hell - damn deadline pressure, I must still get some people's representatives!"

Since Knechter had obviously lost his mind completely, the not very courageous van Nursia decided to put a good face on the mad game.

"Stupidly, I didn't make a pact, so how are you going to get me?"

Lucicale shook his servile head in disappointment.

"I would have expected more from you! As soon as you committed the first mortal sin, you made the contract with us. Whether you know that or not is irrelevant. But enough dawdling, you come along now! After all, there is still enough to do!"

When Lucicale took on his demon form, Nursia finally understood before he disappeared into the eternal abyss, where his kind finally belongs.

© 2021 Qayid Aljaysh Juyub

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

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