News Flash! ‘Pope Francis’ has died and has gone you know where!

Jorge in Hell: A Pungent Papal Purgatory

ELEVATOR ATTENDANT: Seventh level! This stop for lawyers, gun lobbyists, and insurance salesmen … Eighth level! Venture capitalists, arms dealers, and animal torturers … and here you are, sir. Your stop. The Ninth Level of Hell.

JORGE BERGOGLIO (aka ‘Pope Francis’):¿Que? No, no, there’s been a mistake. I don’t belong here!

ELEVATOR ATTENDANT: Please, sir, don’t hold things up. There’s a big batch of Mormons waiting to come down.

VOICE OVER LOUDSPEAKER:Will all new arrivals immediately make their way to Processing. And that means you, sir. The one in the stupid hat.

JORGE: Fuck you, cabron! Show me some respect! Don’t you know who I am?

CLERK: (shouting) Hey, you! Numb nuts! Get your dumb ass over here!

JORGE: Who, me?

CLERK: Yeah, stupid. Right now.

JORGE: Is this Processing?

CLERK: Well, it ain’t the Sistine Chapel. And you are (checking his list) … right. Jorge Bergoglio, aka Frankie the Fixer from Argentina. Have a seat, Frank.

JORGE: Don’t you mean your holiness?

CLERK: Whatever turns your crank, sweetie. We get all kinds down here. So, let’s see (checking list) … Whoa, baby! You’ve got quite the rap sheet, don’t you? You won’t get lonely down here, I can tell you!

JORGE: (straining to look) Let me see that …

CLERK: Uh, uh, uh, Curious George! No lookies! Besides, we don’t have to tell you what you did.

JORGE: (petulantly) Alright, be like that! But let me set the record straight about something.

CLERK: And what’s that?

JORGE: I was never with anyone named Ursula.

CLERK: Who?

JORGE: That hairdresser in Barcelona. The one with the moustache.

CLERK: Not old Ursie the cross dresser! Do you know her, uh, him?

JORGE: It’s all a vicious rumor put out by that asshole Cardinal Parolin to land him the papal crown!

CLERK: Whatever you say, Romeo. Now as for this other stuff …

JORGE: And another thing! I never paid hush money to the Queen of the Netherlands!

CLERK: Really? No 15,000 Euros a month to Maxima Zorrieguieta, your bosom buddy from Buenos Aires?

JORGE: No! It wasn’t that much! (pause) Oh. I mean, never mind. Just forget it.

CLERK: We’re not the forgetting kind down here, George. Besides, that carnal shit is peanuts compared to all these other goodies in your file. Like those cruise missiles to the Argentine junta and your midnight frolics with General Videla and those children.

JORGE: Okay, okay. Don’t rub it in. How is the old Nazi, anyway?

CLERK: The General? He’s doing great upstairs! He wangled a six-figure consultancy job with the Americans, and from there, it was a one-way trip to the better place.

JORGE: Well, that’s not fair. He personally threw those kids out of the helicopter when we were done with them.

CLERK: Yeah, sure he did, George, but he’s got connections! That was your problem all the time, thinking you were God and didn’t need any pull! That’s not how it works, shit for brains! It’s not who you know, it’s who you blow!

JORGE: I know that. I did go through seminary, after all.

CLERK: I mean the big-time blow jobs, George. That was your problem. You thought you had it made. Rule Number One: Never take yourself too seriously – especially in your line of work.

JORGE: OK, so get on with it! What’s next? A thousand years in purgatory, then I get sprung? Or what?

CLERK: A thousand years, for you? Are you kidding? With your record of pardoning thousands of child raping priests and laundering all that money for the Mob, you’ll be lucky to get off with eternity down here!

JORGE: (gloomily) That’s what I was afraid of.

CLERK: Well, buck up, George. You may be in luck.

JORGE: Why’s that?

CLERK: Certain parties in Beijing were pretty upset at your sudden demise. Apparently, you hadn’t signed that loan agreement with them for the eight hundred billion.

JORGE: Well, I was going to sign it before Pietro Parolin and his crew took me out.

CLERK: Right. So, we’ve been offered a deal by the Chinks. They whack Pietro and forge your signature, he takes your place down here like a good little scapegoat, and you land a get out of jail free pass from the nether regions. We’ll even wipe your slate clean and spruce up your post-facto public image.

JORGE: (happily) Really? You’d do that for me?

CLERK: Sure, George. We’ve already arranged it with the New York Times. They’ve promised to make you look even sweeter than Jesus Christ himself! A front page exclusive!

JORGE: Oh, how wonderful! How can I ever …

CLERK: Hold on to your brassiere, George. There’s just one condition.

JORGE: And what’s that?

CLERK: There are some loose ends we need to tie up. But don’t try suckering us, if you know what’s good for you.

JORGE: Alright. Shoot.

CLERK: First, there’s the little matter of plagiarism and copyright infringement.

JORGE: What do you mean?

CLERK: Calling that stupid slice and dice cult of yours The Ninth Circle. You didn’t have our corporation in mind when you took that nomenclature, did you, George? If so, you’re in deep doodoo.

JORGE: Well, now look. Let’s be reasonable. What else could we do but invoke hell and damnation? What were we to call it: Pope Frankie’s Fun House?

CLERK: That’s cute, but it won’t wash. Our lawyers want to pin your ass to the wall over that little stunt.

JORGE: So, what can I do about it now? Just take it up with whoever’s on the throne after that asshole Parolin gets wet jobbed.

CLERK: No way, Jose. You’re holding the bag. (He pulls out a long scroll) We need you to sign this.

JORGE: What is it?

CLERK: You admit that it was your idea to call your romper room The Ninth Circle. Then you indemnify us for any damage arising.

JORGE: You don’t think anyone’s going to sue your boss for wrongful identity, do you?

CLERK: You never know. A lot of people are mistaken for old Beelzebub these days.

JORGE: Alright, fine. I’ll sign. (scratches with a quill pen) Now, what else?

CLERK: That stupid admission you made to the press over in Canada. About the barbeque number you guys did on all those brown kids.

JORGE: I didn’t admit to anything, just that it was genocide! Everybody’s using that word these days!

CLERK: Sure they are. But they weren’t the ones who did it, were they, dummy? You looked as innocent as a guy holding a smoking gun talking about all the bullet-ridden corpses!

JORGE: Alright, so what? You want me to sign something else?

CLERK: Just the usual disclaimer. Here. (Sound of quill scratching). Good boy.

JORGE: So, is that it?

CLERK: You tell me, George. You got any more skeletons in your closet?

JORGE: Nope. We have quite the good clean-up crew in the Vatican. (giggles) Just kidding. Sort of.

CLERK: Very funny. Anyway, here’s your key and meal ticket. There’s a bed change twice a week. You’ll get your work assignment at the pit tomorrow. (pause) Oh, and by the way, wanker. I’ve put you in the same cell with Joe the Rat. We thought you’d like each other’s company.

JORGE: Oh shit, no! Please, not Ratzinger! The fucker snores!

CLERK: Sorry, George. It just goes to show you: be careful who you sleep with.

The sound of flames, screams, and steam hissing, along with devilish cackling.

Censored Truth Revealed: Kevin Annett’s cancelled public debate with the Vatican is now available!