A drop in the ocean

When I heard today that the Pope took 12 Syrian refugees home from the Island of Lesbos

He invoked the words of Mother Theresa

We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.

I said,

Forget the apostles, tomorrow I'm taking 13!

I don't know what the Pope intends

But I will break the bread with these refugees and one day hope

These victims of war can forget man's brutality in favour of

Spreading the gospel of Art and Love

Then I got a call on the phone, it was the Pope who told me that

Balancing the world's interests has always been an act reserved for the Astute Acrobat

Only a few can see advantages upside down

Taking home 12 or 13 didn't matter

And I could swear he said this with a frown

"My eyes are lucid" said the Pope to my outreaching ears

"And to stretch out and shake hands of adults and children

That others seem to vilify takes little effort and few tears"

When he hung up I thought it but a daydream

Only the news flashed again reminding me of those intense faces, full of hope and anxiety

Yet I was feeling anxious as well

I knew this was not the first or last refugee crisis

In the l680s Louis XIV kicked some 200,000 Huguenots out of France 

 Just because they were Protestant

And even in earlier times if you belonged to a clan and

You were different

A male unable to hunt

A female unable to weave

Consequences were rude

Was it possible that modern society's humanitarian drains of empathy were clogged?

Was it possible that our uplifting spirit was fading into a smog?

Was it possible that our ocean couldn't care for "that missing drop"?

The Cuban Drain

A drain is like a big city

It takes everything coming it's way

From the pure water of glaciers to oily

Grease mixed with hair balls

From the suds of bars of soap

To shaved whiskers and nail bits

It is an organic freeway without tolls

Broadway taps "Anything Goes"

On the eve of a full moon

And a New Year's Ball
That I have sumptuously put together

The conduit discharger of my kitchen sink

Is obstructed

Relunctantly the guests are sent home

As the dishes cannot be washed
And champagne flutes lay idle with fruit flies spinning around them.

I concoct a feast of sodium hydroxide and aluminium oxide

that is poured to dislodge the stubborn clog

Yet except for a few agitated bubbles that

Exit the dark furrow

(The sink is now over half full and malodorous)

The water level is stagnant

The following day a handheld auger is summoned

Shiny blue with a

Curly cue pigs tail to grab grime

Holding it like the Penguin's machine gun in an old Batman TV series

The plumber

Plunges the cable and spins it with verve

Hypnotic rings of water ring the sink

The plumber insists with clenched teeth

But there seems to be a Grendel in the pipes

A beastly beast

Holding back slime and grit
One would think

In this sink lies the Emperor of Obstruction!

Or rather a Cowgirl holding her own

Not giving an inch

No matter what Plumber plunges the plunge
She will stand her ground.

Yet more days, then weeks pass

The drain is still clogged

Experts from near an far are summoned

All try their art

The wire hanger, the plunger the air burster to name a few

But to no avail.

Then a prodigious whale of a plumber from Geatland appears at the door

Named "Plumber-Wolf" he insists on visiting the kitchen

Strips of all his clothes and tools except for a sledgehammer

At midnight he starts to slam the walls of the sink

The entire house trembles

The beams start to crack

A few bubbles come to the surface

But the clog holds fast!

The heroic plumber leaves defeated.

Finally the doorbell rings with an unusual chime,
My smoke extractor coughs sending a plume of smoke wafting
to the upstairs bedrooms
It is Pope Francis, he beckons to come in

He floats the Cuban flag on the murky, lifeless lake

The water starts to shake

An audience of dignitaries gather around the sink

And within an instant the drain delivers its load to the sewer
It is empty!

Restored to drain for years to come!

All in the name a  50 year diplomatic thaw that ended an

entrenched embargo.

Cracked Cat meets the Pope

It was a rough night in bed. Ducky Duck couldn't sleep a wink: his friend Cracked Cat 

was going to see the new Pope tomorrow. Cracked Cat was timorous about getting a benediction so early on in the Pope's Papacy but Ducky Duck was irrefutable: "Do it" he said.

(Ducky Duck reflecting on what Cracked Cat should wear to meet the Pope) 11:06 am

Cracked Cat slept well. He had faith in Ducky Duck, after all she was her best friend. True she was "special". One didn't run into transexual ducks everyday. But Cracked Cat loved her. They were in it together and the proof was ice fishing. Ducky Duck hated ice but loved fish. Cracked Cat was cracked: she loved it all. But recently she was on a poor spate: last month she only caught 2 fish in one week. Two fish! Night after night she came home chilled to the bone; her nails could hardly retract.

Two fish in one week wasn't enough to eat and usually she would catch 10 times that much!

Off she went  in Ducky Duck's limousine  to see Francis the 1st.

The timing was tight. Francis was just getting off his coronation. He got word from Ducky Duck about Cracked Cat coming and since he "owed a few" to Ducky, he couldn't refuse. He would have to take the cat in his private Logia and give her an express benediction. All this without a word to the press, the pontificate insisted to his entourage.

Cracked Cat showed up just before midnight. "I don't want just any benediction your Hooliness" she said, "I need a special blessing for ice fishing. Don't just Ave Maria me" she hissed, her head proudly held up, revealing a few of her sharp teeth.

The Pope got on his knees and murmured some things in latin. He then crossed Cracked Cat and said: "Ora tu puoi pescare tanti pesci." (Cracked Cat didn't speak Italian but she knew the word pesci was fish.) She thanked Francis and swiftly took leave under the look of angels and a lot of golden suffering on the walls. 

The next day she was out ice fishing and she caught more fish than she could haul home. What a surprise for Ducky Duck!

Hanniballs, Berlusconi and the Pope

He was ordained, the Chosen One

He had come from Carthage with

38,000 infantry, 8,000 cavalry, and 37 war elephants

Like his Grandfather not only did Hanniballs have to face

The extreme cold conditions with men unseasoned to the cold or mountain climbing but

Hanniballs croxxing the Alps

He knew there were 27 Bunga-Bunga girls waiting for him at the border of Menton

Enchanting, seductive Amazon Sirens

Fearless, they were ready to suck the trunk even out of Patraeus' Elephant

But Hanniballs was clever

He devised special crampons that allowed his 37 Elephants to go safely over a high Alpine Pass

He devised giant horse blinds in case his elephants ran into the Bunga Bungas

But Time was running short

Whereas his Grandfather hung l5 years in the Po valley eating truffles 

Hanniballs had to get to Rome fast

Berlusconi was getting elected on a bunch of lies and

The Pope was about to resign; the Vatican Papaless!

Rome would loose all morals

The Bunga Bungas would invade His Holy Quarters

Hurry Hanniballs, Hurry!