When God Says: Be Naughty My Children

Marquel, TPVs New York Times Inequality section correspondent was helping TPV’s rehabilitated writer Heath Mayhew clean his vaporizer, when he read Pope Condemns Legalization of Recreational Drugs. Pope Francis condemned the legalization of recreational drugs as a flawed and failed experiment as he lent his voice Friday to a debate that is raging from the United States to Uruguay. The Pope said that the underlying problems, economic and social inequality, should receive top priority.

Marquel noted a certain inconsistency in the Pope’s position. Marquel was at the Vatican once when they received their beverage delivery and he had seldom seen so much wine in one truck. There were also several cases of brandy. It’s true there was no visible dope aboard but still. Next to “unexplained,” the word “inconsistency” is certainly Marquel’s favorite. It helps keep wood in the home fires.

So there was no choice but to get an audience with the Pope. Mufi was no help, but Marquel knew that would happen since he had asked Mufi in the past whether he had contacts in the Vatican. None.

Marquel spent considerable time mulling this over.He finally struck on a plan. Several high school friends had fathers in what is sometimes called La Cosa Nostra. The first three he called were, unfortunately, dead, but Giorgio Vino, the high school quarterback was healthy enough to answer the phone.

“Giorgio, Marquel!” I said.

“Marquel goomba, what’s up?” He asked.

“A favor,” I said.

“That’s what I do,” he said. “Whaddya need?”

“Five minutes with the Pope,” I said.

“Wow, You don’t ask for small favors,” he said.

“Is it possible?” I wondered.

“Anything’s possible. I’ll have it done. You’ll be contacted.” He said. “But tell me. Can you get me a subscription to the Pothole View?”

“Anything’s possible,” I said. Giorgio doesn’t realize how the internet works. But a favor’s a favor.

I was on an Alitalia flight the next morning. My audience with the Pope was the morning after.

<!–more>

It was a gorgeous Roman morning. I found the Vatican but not the entrance. It was all quite impressive. Everybody was dressed up. Almost like Halloween. The guards wore the most fantastic outfits and I was eventually led to a small enrance, when I explained that I had an audience with the Pope. In fact, the words “audience with the Pope,” seemed to open doors all by itself. Big doors. With bas-relief carvings on them. Large metal handles, and again fancily-costumed door openers, or so it seemed. They didn’t appear to have any other jobs except to open doors with those who had an audience-with-the-Pope.

I waited where they told me. The most fantastically ornate room in which I have ever waited. And I’ve waited in an unbelievably fantastic amount of rooms.

The moment came. The sweetest man I’ve ever met stood in the doorway and I approached him. I knew about the ring kissing deal, although he seemed a bit uncomfortable with the ritual. Then I realized this was Europe. I love Europe. It’s the only place where you can kiss beautiful people that you would hardly ever shake hands with in the States, because that’s how they shake hands. They kiss. Can you believe it? I love going to Europe and kissing. But I also know that you kiss them, they kiss you. Should I offer my ring to the Pope? After all, I’d just kissed his ring. Did he expect to kiss mine? So I offered my ring with the Nassau Community College emblem on it. He looked at it and said, “Nice.” I agreed. I guess the kissing is one way in the Vatican.

We sat down. He was very quiet, so I took my cue.

“Your Excellency,” I said. I was pretty sure that was right. “I’d like to talk to you about your statement on drugs. You said economic and social equality were what we should aim for, not drugs.”

“Yes, I’m afraid we’ve lost our way,” he said. “It’s not that I’m against drugs per se.”

I interrupted. “You’re not against drugs?” I asked.

“Of course not,” he said. “If God didn’t want us taking drugs that make us happy, he would have given a sign. There is nothing in God’s word that says don’t take drugs. But there is a lot about treating people equally and being humble.”

“Meaning,” I said, truly confused.

“Meaning that drugs and safety should be available to all. Until all people can have drugs safely at an affordable price, we should work on the conditions that make that impossible.”

“I think that’s very holy of you,” I said stupidly. Of course it was holy of him. He was the Pope! And he just told me drugs are good!

“No,” he said, “it is God’s way.” He said. He smiled beatifically at me. “What kind of drugs do you take?”

“Oh,” I said, embarrassed, “an occasional toke once in a while. Not much. You should have seen me in college. A smokestack.” He smiled.

“Me, too,” he said. “But college is one thing. The Vatican is another. When I was in school, who could have predicted I would one day be the pope?” He smiled even more, “Those were good days. Youth. It can’t be beat.”

I had a sudden inspiration. Or perhaps it was the devil himself. “Want some herb?” I asked. “I have a little.”

He looked extremely indecisive. His eyes darted around the room.

“Why not,” he said, “just one toke.”

“Your English is marvelous,” I said. I took out some weed secreted in my back pocket and rolled it quickly. I saw the Pope looking on with interest. Hunger, even.” I took a puff. He took one.

“Good,” he said, curling the joint in his fingers. “Just one more,” he said.

We finished half the joint before it clearly was enough. The Pope was giggling. So was I. The Pope and I in a giggle fit.

“So,” I said, “I could continue the interview, or I could forget it.”

“Whatever you want, my son,” he said, “We’re both so happy. Let’s forget about work and be happy. You can make up something on your way back to the States.”

“I do that anyway,” I said. “We write satire. It doesn’t have to be literally true.”

“That is my work, too,” he said. “It needn’t be literally true. It just has to carry God’s inspiration. We’ve been naughty. Let us pray.”

We knelt and he spoke of the poor and the suffering, and of the world’s ills. We both said, “amen,” and smiled at each other. He’s a gentle man. And a good one. All it took was a toke to see that the world would be better if we were all like Him.

My exit from the Vatican was hurried. I was helped along by a lot of costumed people who looked displeased with me. One of them said something that sounded a lot like “don’t come back.”

My flight back to the States wasn’t as busy as I had feared. I realized that what happened was more important and meaningful than anything I might make up. He was right. The world deserves more joy and herb. It’s God’s will.

***

BY MARQUEL:  When God Says: Be Naughty,  My Children