Hey, Pope Francis. Whatcha doing?
“I got-a da ball. I’m-a da Messi. Gonna kick-a da goal.”
You sound so excited, Your Holiness.
“And when-a I score? I’m-a gonna take off-a my cassock. Run around-a da field.”
That’s a little wild for a pope.
“Si, si. The nuns would-a get scared.”
Probably.
“You see-a da swoosh? Just-a do it? That’s-a da good advice.”
You think people should just do it?
“Si, but-a the ‘it’ should-a be devoting your life-a to Christ.”
Right. No conversation with you strays too far from Jesus, does it?
“He’s-a my guy.”
Didn’t they have a big soccer tournament recently?
“Is-a called football.”
My grandfather stormed the beach at Normandy for my right to call that socialist child’s game whatever the hell I wanted, Your Holiness. Excuse my language.
“You’re-a forgiven.”
This was a European thing, though, right? Argentina wasn’t in it?
“Argentina is-a no in Europe.”
There are some islands right off the coast that are in Europe.
“Don’t make-a me sic the Swiss-a Guards on you.”
Sorry.
“Is-a da Euro Cup. I-a root for-a Italy but they-a stunk.”
Who’s your team now?
“I root-a for Iceland. I like-a da Vikings.”
They’re scrappy.
“And they’re not-a France.”
And that. Are there any Catholics in Iceland?
“Six.”
Six?
“We-a counted. Is-a whole country of-a atheists who-a believe in-a da elves.”
And fairies.
“They love-a da fairies. And-a da Thor. Not so much-a da Jesus.”
But you’re still rooting for them.
“Who would-a Jesus cheer for David or-a Goliath?”
Good point.
“That’s why I’m-a da Pope-a.”
I saw what you did there with that title.
…
The Pope talks like Chico Marx? Who knew?