The Abominable Brother Richard

There once, in Rome, lived a very detestable monk named Brother Richard. And boy, was he ever a dick! He once laid an entire convent of virgin adolescent nuns—gave them all the clap! He was so low that he would steal his own Mother’s grocery money (except for that he was an orphan) and go out and buy himself a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 (except for that they didn’t have Mad Dog 20/20 in 15th Century Rome, much to the Roman’s chagrin).

Anyway, he was a real bad apple in case I haven’t mentioned it.

Now Brother Richard used to like to travel around the Empire, preaching the gospel and sewing his proverbial wild oats. He spent much of his time on the road, and wherever he went he left behind a trail of illegitimate children. Thus he always had to be very careful never to visit the same region twice.

Eventually Brother Dick, as he came to be known, settled down in a reclusive monastery where he repented of his sins and grew old peacefully and in good grace.

But then one day when he was seventy-eight years old (quite an amazing age for the day) Brother Richard got an old and funny sort of feeling in his loins. And though he knew damn well what it was he refused to acknowledge it until it had grown so overpowering that it tormented him wretched day and sleepless night. He knew this urge quite familiarly though it had lain dormant for so many many years. Just when he had been sure that his sinful desires had been lain forever to rest, there they were, slapping him in the face and turning his wrinkled grey balls to blue.

“God forgive me for what I am about to do,” he earnestly pleaded.

He had to go a-prowling. He had no choice in the matter. He hadn’t had a good roll in the hay with a pretty young lass for over fifty years, and his libido was demanding its back-pay.

“Don’t do this, Richard!” his fellow brothers pleaded. They knew well the faults of their dear brother, and they knew exactly what it was he was about to do. But Brother Dick was stubborn, and whereas they had neither legal nor moral right to stop him, soon he was on his way.

© 1998 Randy Bone

 

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