Chapter 86: Antonio, The Pope
Fuck, this is tiring.
I forgot what it felt like to be the pope. To stand amongst a crowd using the gifts the goddess gave me to help. Feeding the poor, giving back to them, healing them.
It was... therapeutic in a way. Felt like a rush to be actively using my powers.
"Pope, the next one is here to see you," the random priest who had been following me around since I came back to the church said, gesturing to an old lady, with graying hair and missing teeth. She looked like she had lived a full life. She was plump, with rosy cheeks and a bright smile. I was curious to ask her about her life. I bet it's an interesting tale.
I took her hand, a smile on my face, and activated my powers. It was a slow trickle that soon turned into a river, rushing through her and healing anything it deemed wrong in its path. It took a few minutes, healing arthritis and a lump on her back, before it came back to me, settling in like a chill.
"There, how's that?"
"I feel... better than I have in years! Thank you!" She kissed my hand, as was customary, and it took everything in me to not wipe away her saliva.
"Goddess bless you," I said, discreetly wiping my palm on my robe, hands clasped behind me.
Her smile-- teeth all accounted for and shining white-- nearly blinded me.
"Your holiness, the next one--" And on and on it went until I was exhausted. I swatted at the rando, anger lacing my words when I begged (read: demanded) a break. "I can't remember the last time I ate."
"You ate at nine-thirty-three this morning, and you had waffles, fresh fruits, a smoothie, and scrambled eggs topped with cheese," he informed me because, of course, he knew that. "I will allow you a brief intermission."
Wait.
Hold the fuck up.
allow me?
Fucking ALLOW ME?
Oh, this bitch is dead.
Read my handwriting, mini-pope.
D. E. A. D.
Naturally, after such a comment, I quit for the day, beggers be damned, and went back to my chambers (yet again different, resembling the room I found in the corridor), and I screamed into my pillow.