As the Day of Judgment drew nigh, about three in the afternoon Eastern Standard Time, the President of the United States rang up the Pope on the white princess Holy Hotline phone in the Oval Office. “Yes, I am aware what time it is,” the President said petulantly. “Do you even know what’s happening? When was the last time you looked out your window? The sky is like sackcloth, for God’s sake.
“Sorry, Your Holiness. It’s a figure of speech. Just go to your window and look at the moon.
“What do you mean you can’t see the moon? I can see it right now. It’s like blood! Look at it, man!
“I know you’re in Rome. Don’t you have the moon in Rome?”
“Look,” the President sighed. “The reason I’m calling is about the Army of Light, see...
“Well, I think I should...
“Yes, me. I’m the commander in chief of the United States of America, leader of the free world. I get to command the Army of Light, not you. You’re just a pope. No offense, but you have no military experience.
“Yes, I do. That doesn’t count. Look, we’re winning that. We will. OK? See, I called to offer you a position as a general in the Air Force.
“No, not the whole Air Force. We’ve already got somebody for that. Former CEO of Exxon, if you must know. So I have a position open for a brigadier general, stationed in Alaska.
“Alaska. Brigadier. B-R-I-G--- I-D-- Look, it’s a type of general. What do you want? It’s not like you’re Billy Graham or somebody.
“Yes, I know he’s dead. I’m trying to reach out to you, see. It’s a good command, plenty of medal potential but still a nice safe distance from the valley of Megiddo. Let’s face it, you’re not getting any younger, Pops.
“Fine. Be that way,” the President snipped. “Have fun commanding the Army of Darkness, ‘Your Holiness’.” He hung up.
“Dick!” the President snarled.
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“How did that guy get to be pope, anyway?”
“He was elected.”
“Well, I didn’t vote for him.”
“Of course you didn’t, Mr. President.”
© 2006-2008 Jeff Crook
Originally published at Bewildering Stories