Hey, Your Holiness. Whatcha doing?
“Da usual. Prayin’. Wearin’ da fancy clothes. Pope stuff.”
But no mask.
“No, no. No mask for-a da Pope.”
You’re like the opposite of Batman.
“Si, si. Take-a da vow of poverty. Drive-a da Fiat. And-a no punching clowns.”
You don’t have any nemeses at all.
“Eh, dunno ’bout dat. I got-a da enemy.”
“Dat-a guy. Now he won’t stop-a wit’ da Borat. Every ten minutes Mah wiiiiiife. Mah wiiiiife. Benedict ain’t got-a no wife! Trust-a me on-a dat one.”
Wait. Did you come out in favor of civil unions between gay partners just to annoy Pope Benedict?
You really are my favorite Pope ever. Except for the one who dug up his predecessor and put him on trial.
“The ol’ Cadaver Synod. You can-a no get away wit’ dat no more. Times they did-a change.”
Can Popes be impeached?
“If-a you dig up bodies and-a put dem on trial? Should be!”
Can’t be pulling that kind of crap any more.
“No, no. Is-a bad for-a da brand.”
Right as usual. Still, Your Holiness, I’d like to see you wear a mask. You’re 83.
“People wanna see-a da Pope face. Besides, I got-a da weapon up-a da sleeve of my cassock.”
“No, no. Everyone who comes-a anywhere near-a me is tested within an inch of-a their lives.”
“I’m-a da good Pope.”
Keep the faith, Your Holiness.
“I couldn’t lose it if-a I tried.”