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MY POPE MARTHA “Put that kettle down for a minute, dear,” said Lady Benedict, “you may get quite miffed about this. I caught Pious XIII under the porch again today. He was making the most offensive wafers out of mud. If I hadn’t caught him in time we’d have had them for communion on Sunday. I swear that man has brought nothing but antagonism and lingering smells into this neighborhood.” “Yes,” Clovis agreed, lifting the teabag from his cup and squeezing it dry over his lap. “It’s true, I must admit it. The whole thing, you know, reminds me of my rather sordid affair with the Papacy some years ago.” “Mind your vestment,” scolded Lady Benedict. “Dear, you can’t be serious. An affair? Not with the Papal entity himself!” “Not in so many words, my sweet, not in so many words.” |