According to my selfish ego I listen to my dark heart and know that Shiri was my only ‘real’ thing I have ever had. It would be a while before I lived over it. But since my periscope must rise to watch the moon and stars every night I have run BACK to the home I fled – the sweet arms of Sr. Batel. However, deep down I know that this is just lust.
Sr. Batel called me on Friday evening as I was coming from conducting the Member’s Day evening mass. She asked if I wanted to know what really the fruit of Eden was – old habits don’t die – how could I turn down such a lucrative position. Who would anyway?
One thing I like about Sister is that she’s adventurous, cunning like the cobra of Eden, skilled and surprisingly skilled in forbidden shenanigans. I always wonder why did she take such talents to a defunct vocation where she might be rudimentary and redundant.
I met Sr. Batel at a seminar in Rome, Italy in 2009, year of the Lord, and since then we have been in an on-off-on liaison. We both know the consequences of our secret affair, but who still reveres papal supremacy and infallibility. She is a black Jew from Laikipia, Kenya whose descendants found Canaan among the Maasais after wandering in the 1940s in Habasweni, North Eastern Province of Kenya.
My heart goes to this babe when we are at the Operation Holy Iniquity. If only she knew that her howly jolly joystick has never been touched by the hands of gods…!
We were at that point of no return when sirens scream ‘I’m coming babe’ when my phone rang interrupting the archetypal orgasm that was to be.
When I glanced at the caller ID and saw a graffiti that said SECURED CALL on the screen I almost shuddered with resentment. I hate such times being interrupted by such vanity gadgets. As a Chayot HaKodesh I wouldn’t dare think of letting it ring for long leave alone ignoring it if I loved my evil life as much. Still, I didn’t pick up, aware of the consequence, until I felt the damn dam burst its walls inside Sr. Batel’s sauna.
“You need to get that one,” Sr. Batel told me.
I was in time just as the last ring threatened to end when I grabbed the phone and hit the connect button at the same time dismounting Sr. Batel.
The caller did not need to identify himself for his voice echoes like thunder to the ends of the world. Just a call from him and you know you are fattening your account with every breath you take, but dangerous missions where everything is at stake.
But it was not a mission. He was the bearer of bad news --- Angel Michael was dead, the caller told me.
Copyright ©Vincent de Paul, 2012. All rights reserved.