A Swiss guard at Vatican City blew his nose and woke up the Pope.
Who then thought it was the Last Trumpet and thought the Rapture was taking place. The Pontiff was confused as to why he wasn’t ascending, nor were any of his cardinals, orioles, feathered tits or blue-footed boobies.
The High and Mighty Clerical Elite stood around staring at the ceiling, waiting for Jesus to finish taking a shit and reaching down a hand to pull them into Heaven.
Instead, the Pope had to go to the washroom – couldn’t wait – he had been up late the night before partying with the Illuminati, drinking and smoking and telling off-color jokes.
And that was when the Pope realized he wouldn’t be going to anyone’s Heaven. So he fired the guard, went back to bed, and had sweet dreams about being a Southern Belle fanning herself while Atlanta burned.
