"You're a big pile of stinky doo doo diarrhea and you play with your weenie all night long."
I raised an eyebrow. The puerile accusations stung. It had certainly been many years since my last confession but I had no idea that the Catholic Church had lapsed to the point of actually allowing men of the cloth to resort to childish name calling. The confidant on the other side of the confessional suddenly belched loudly and the smell of cheap bourbon wafted through the screen of the partition slot. I heard the click of a cigarette lighter and the smell of cigarette smoke hit my nostrils within seconds.
"Excuse me, father...but is it customary to smoke cigarettes while hearing confession these days?" I asked.
My rather suspicious father confessor was silent for a brief moment...then came the sound of a fart from the other side of the confessional. As I held my breath and fanned the air, I attempted to place the voice coming from the next compartment. I had certainly heard it before, but not in Saint Augustine's Church. It was youthful and full of childish glee...more the voice of a playful scamp than a devoted man of God. I leaned forward, attempting to catch a glimpse of the person on the other side of the confessional through the small screened window in the wall. I caught sight of ridiculously-baggy holy vestments and a what at first glance appeared to be a midget wearing a beard crafted from cotton balls. The face was as instantly familiar to me as the voice had been. I had seen it many times on the sliver screen featured in MGM's "Little Jackie" two reel comedies.
But what on earth was the diminutive child star doing dressed as a priest and sitting inside a confessional booth at Saint Augustine's? As a certified private detective, I felt it was my duty to find out. I decided to play hardball with the little creep and went for the jugular with a line of bullshit about being a star-struck pedophile with a Little Jackie Jones. The kid went all queasy as I pretended too lust for the rotten little bastard. "Little Jackie is the reason I play with my weenie all night long, Father. I feel so dirty, but I just can't help it. Little Jackie is so beautiful! I must make sweet sweet love to him!"
Silence from the other side of the confessional, then finally Little Jackie spoke, this time attempting to make his voice sound deeper. "Uh...well, gee mister, that's awfully horrible. If I'm not mistaken you can get arrested for that sort of thing."
"Yes. I would have to strangle him afterward and dismember his little body and distribute his various body parts in dumpsters around the city to avoid going to the electric chair...but it will all be worth it when I track him down. I think I'll save his penis in a cigar box."
"Jesus Christ, mister!" Jackie said. His voice was now filled with terror.
"I can't wait to suck out his eyeballs!" I said, taking a live duck from my overcoat pocket that I'd managed to catch in Griffith Park. With lighting-quick speed I punched out the screen of the confessional wall and shoved the duck through into the adjoining compartment. Little Jackie screamed as the duck flapped its wigs and quacked frantically.
Before Jackie could bolt from the confessional I made my exit and opened my trusty violin case. I removed the large, nude female doll that I kept inside for just such occasions. When Jackie burst out of the confessional I poked the doll in his face and screamed in a high-pitched voice. "That's the man got me pregnant! That's him! Infected my womb with his syphilis-tainted baby batter! Our baby come out all crazy!"
Little Jackie ran from the church screaming bloody murder, baggy priest vestments dragging behind him, his eyes wide with horror. I smiled and lit a well-deserved cigarette, and then, laughing, dropped my pants and went to the bathroom on the floor of the church.
The End (?)
I raised an eyebrow. The puerile accusations stung. It had certainly been many years since my last confession but I had no idea that the Catholic Church had lapsed to the point of actually allowing men of the cloth to resort to childish name calling. The confidant on the other side of the confessional suddenly belched loudly and the smell of cheap bourbon wafted through the screen of the partition slot. I heard the click of a cigarette lighter and the smell of cigarette smoke hit my nostrils within seconds.
"Excuse me, father...but is it customary to smoke cigarettes while hearing confession these days?" I asked.
My rather suspicious father confessor was silent for a brief moment...then came the sound of a fart from the other side of the confessional. As I held my breath and fanned the air, I attempted to place the voice coming from the next compartment. I had certainly heard it before, but not in Saint Augustine's Church. It was youthful and full of childish glee...more the voice of a playful scamp than a devoted man of God. I leaned forward, attempting to catch a glimpse of the person on the other side of the confessional through the small screened window in the wall. I caught sight of ridiculously-baggy holy vestments and a what at first glance appeared to be a midget wearing a beard crafted from cotton balls. The face was as instantly familiar to me as the voice had been. I had seen it many times on the sliver screen featured in MGM's "Little Jackie" two reel comedies.
But what on earth was the diminutive child star doing dressed as a priest and sitting inside a confessional booth at Saint Augustine's? As a certified private detective, I felt it was my duty to find out. I decided to play hardball with the little creep and went for the jugular with a line of bullshit about being a star-struck pedophile with a Little Jackie Jones. The kid went all queasy as I pretended too lust for the rotten little bastard. "Little Jackie is the reason I play with my weenie all night long, Father. I feel so dirty, but I just can't help it. Little Jackie is so beautiful! I must make sweet sweet love to him!"
Silence from the other side of the confessional, then finally Little Jackie spoke, this time attempting to make his voice sound deeper. "Uh...well, gee mister, that's awfully horrible. If I'm not mistaken you can get arrested for that sort of thing."
"Yes. I would have to strangle him afterward and dismember his little body and distribute his various body parts in dumpsters around the city to avoid going to the electric chair...but it will all be worth it when I track him down. I think I'll save his penis in a cigar box."
"Jesus Christ, mister!" Jackie said. His voice was now filled with terror.
"I can't wait to suck out his eyeballs!" I said, taking a live duck from my overcoat pocket that I'd managed to catch in Griffith Park. With lighting-quick speed I punched out the screen of the confessional wall and shoved the duck through into the adjoining compartment. Little Jackie screamed as the duck flapped its wigs and quacked frantically.
Before Jackie could bolt from the confessional I made my exit and opened my trusty violin case. I removed the large, nude female doll that I kept inside for just such occasions. When Jackie burst out of the confessional I poked the doll in his face and screamed in a high-pitched voice. "That's the man got me pregnant! That's him! Infected my womb with his syphilis-tainted baby batter! Our baby come out all crazy!"
Little Jackie ran from the church screaming bloody murder, baggy priest vestments dragging behind him, his eyes wide with horror. I smiled and lit a well-deserved cigarette, and then, laughing, dropped my pants and went to the bathroom on the floor of the church.
The End (?)
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