Pope Benedict has reportedly decided to resign and chillax after being totally burned out by his job and something he refers to as “the Twitter.”
“This is not the job that was described to me when I interviewed. Nobody told me I’d have to put in like sixty hours a week, listening to the incessant whining of people with dying relatives. Ugh. What am I supposed to do about Uncle Joe’s ass cancer? Huh? I’m no surgeon. What, I’m gonna sticka my finger up there and fix it? Eh, all I wanna do is smoke cigars and maybe play a little bocce. I like bocce.”
His Eminence seemed relieved after making his announcement, just in time to catch The Grammys.
“That’s another thing: In the rare case when I get a holy boner–like say when watching Rihanna’s luscious caboose–I want to be able to ejaculate with no remorse. This stupid old book says I can’t beat off. That sucks. One boner a year and I’m not going to waste it, damn you. Pass me the olives, please.”
Officials at The Vatican were quick to escort the former Pope from the premises, for security reasons.
“Did you see how them sumnabitches treated me? Why, I ought to send locusts into their chambers. Fuckers. It was embarrassing–taking me out of there like that. They wouldn’t even let me retrieve my ASPCA mug. I love that mug. Oh, and my favorite Dylan CD is still the desk. God damn it! What am I gonna do, email some passwords or something? I want my mug!”
Once he calmed down and had his sits-bath, Benny was more pleasant. We asked if he had any immediate plans for how he would spend retirement.
“Well, I’m not going to Disney World, I tell ya. Hate that place. Damn perverts dressed up like stuffed animals. There’s the kid touchers. How come nobody watches those creepy fuckers? Think I’m going to Cabo. Yep. I’m gonna rent a burro, strap a case of Corona over its back, and cruise the beach lookin’ for tan boobies. Gosh, I love tits. Haven’t held one since Liberace was on TV. Yep, that’s what I need: A sweet Mexican woman with tan, sweaty tittes … oh, and a newspaper; I love the funnies. You’ll have to excuse me. I need to pass gas. Stand over there.”
When asked about his successor, Benny was quick to comment.
“Like I give a fried cannoli who the next poor bastard is. The church wants to get with the times? Then they should outdo you fuckers and hire a gay, Asian, one-legged woman … a seventeen-year-old. Top that, you American liberals. Then, instead of the traditional white smoke, the boys should have a big fucking pot party. I’d be all for it. Fuck Washington. The Vatican has some legendary bud, believe you me. Say, can you show me how to work this remote thing? Every time I try to turn the volume up, the damn channel changes.”
In a final act of defiance, Benny removed his papal ring and tossed it into the Tiber.
“Good luck finding that, losers. Better go hire Smeagol. Ah, ha ha ha!”