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| The Dangers of Iris | Started by: TheSpacePope on Sep 11, '08 23:36 |
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TSP: IRIS! Great to see you, finally, at church! Come in! IRIS: Popey! Good to see you again, but frankly I'd rather not. TSP: Iris scornful father-like eye confession is medicine for the soul IRIS: Really, I'm not terribly comfortable doing that. Lets sit outside here and talk for a while TSP: Well, suit yourself my dear. What brings you around these parts? IRIS: Oh just out for a little stroll, trying to catch a breath of fresh air. TSP: Yeah, I imagine you don't get much of that at your office what with all the burning flesh and brimstone. IRIS: Too true. So, tell me, what are you up to these days? Im seeing more and more of your "disciples" lately TSP: Feigning shock and disbelief! WHAT!? True Papal Disciples would never entreat upon your humble....cave? IRIS: Whatever. You're sending me more business than I can handle. Ive had to "recruit" 18 new people in two different shifts to process all the paperwork that comes with the recently condemned. TSP: You deserve it, I'm sure. IRIS: Ass. TSP: TSK-TSK, language, my dear. The Queen of the Dammed should be above such gutter-mouthery. IRIS: SIGH I suppose you're right. I do have a reputation to uphold. TSP: Come inside with me. Its 90 degrees in the shade out here, you must be freezing! IRIS: Rubbing her arms with a slight shiver. You know I cant do that. TSP: Nonsense! I know of no physical nor astral borders that you fall within. Come inside, lighten your burden! IRIS: I really don't.... TSP: The Space Pope reaches for Iris' hand to lift her from their seat, but withdraws quickly as the pain of evil burns his skin. He flaps his hand and blows on it to cool it down a bit then pulls it inside the sleeve of his black leather Papal Motorcycle jacket and tries again. She takes the sleeve and stands to her feet as black smoke hisses up from her grip on his garment. IRIS: she arches an eyebrow at him. TSP: I INSIST! If not for the welfare of your eternal soul, then to ease the obvious weight upon your mantle. IRIS: Well...I suppose it would be good to talk to someone who understands. TSP: That a girl! Come to my office! IRIS: Do you still have that cappuccino machine? TSP: No, but I can have a nun whip one up for you. IRIS: Lord in heaven...how do you keep nuns around? I have more of your nuns running around hell than nearly any other class of people! INCLUDING REALTORS! TSP: Impossible! Wry smile cast at Iris. MY nuns are pure as the driven snow. As diligent a shepherd as I might be I cannot force a lost lamb back into the fold. What they choose to do with their free agency is beyond even the Highest's control. IRIS: Whatever. It's a wonder how long you've stayed in business with the amount of bullshit you produce. TSP: Its no wonder...bullshit IS the business. You're the only honest person here. There's just no money in what you do. IRIS: Oh, but it has its benefits! Wicked Grin TSP: Torturing and flaying the skin from the bones of the dammed isn't what I would call a benefit. Not enough money in it. IRIS: Not all treasure is silver and gold, my dear Popey. TSP: Yes it is, now cut that shit out. They enter The Space Popes office and he closes the door behind her. The room is covered in beautiful wood paneling which was hand-carved by the hard-working indigenous people of Brazil and hand-exploited by The Space Pope. He sits himself behind his desk and directs a waiting nun with glazed-over eyes to produce a cappuccino for Iris. She nods obediently and wanders from the room. Iris watches her leave and shakes her head. IRIS: How do you get them so tame? TSP: One cannot deny the power of The Lord, my dear. When compelled to follow you must follow Iris sits herself upon a beautiful wooden throne which instantly begins to smoke and char. The rising fumes of searing wood frame her nicely and she begins to look right at home. IRIS: My heavens, its nice to finally sit in peace and quiet for once. TSP: Don't I know it...no rest for the wicked, 'eh? IRIS: You would know. SIGH. You would think I could call the shots and do whatever I wanted...I mean, that's why I got into this line of work, but as it turns out its nothing but babysitting! TSP: Do tell... IRIS: Constantly! It never ends. I mean, you cant fully appreciate eternal torment if you aren't ever actually...TORMENTED! You know!? TSP: Well...if you want a job done right... IRIS: True enough. I mean, nobody can carve flesh from bone with one stroke of the whip unless you REALLY put your heart and soul into it! TSP: But can you do that forever? IRIS: Well sure...its just hard to keep the passion for the work, you know? And when Im not having to plague and pestilence Ive got to train people to do it. TSP: Uh-huh As the frustrations in her voice rise the chair suddenly bursts into flame around her. She stands casually and kicks the piece of furniture to the side where it crashes into a wall. Unfazed she begins to pace while still ranting. IRIS: And when you aren't training you're filling out paperwork. Endless, ENDLESS mounds of paperwork. Everyone has to have an entire documented history of why they are condemned! As if God doesn't already know. TSP: Well, you know...everything has to follow due course. Even God has to cover his ass. The burning chair sets the priceless wood paneling ablaze and The Space Pope finally starts looking nervous. He stands and casually waves his Papal Motorcycle Cloak at the flames, but that only serves to drive them higher IRIS: I swear, they don't make enough meds to handle the stress. Ive even started binge eating! TSP: Very distracted now Er, yeah...I bet Iris pulls a live dove from her handbag and begins munching on it distractedly while pacing around the floor, which also begins to burn. Flaming circles emanate from her feet and the rising smoke chokes the ceiling. The Space Pope now frantically looks for the exit. TSP: Well, I hate to rush you.... IRIS: Paying him no mind, now fully engulfed in flame as she continues to rant between bloody mouthfuls You'd think all that paperwork would be taken care of by the heavenly scribes! THAT'S WHAT THEY'RE THERE FOR!! TSP: Iris... Half his office now burns and The Space Pope is forced to fall to his knees in search of the open door. He only finds it by luck through the fog of smoldering wood and tapestry because his nun-drone re-enters the room with Iris' drink. She immediately catches fire, and begins howling and frandically running around the office before falling out through the door and tearing off through the church, setting pewes alight as she goes. TSP: IRIS!! IRIS: WHAT!? TSP: The Space Pope crawls feverishly through the door as the rafters of his office begin to buckle, moments away from collapsing. IRIS: Still not moving from her spot, but completely consumed in hellish fire. Damn it! Flame races through the church now, blocking the exits and the panicked screams of trapped paritioners is barely audible above the roar of the inferno. IRIS: I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T WANT TO COME IN HERE! The Space Pope tears the cloak off one of his priests and uses it to shield himself as he jumps through the burning arch way. The helpless priest, now completely venerable writhes on the floor in the searing heat, screaming for release Iris rubs her temples and curses The Space Pope as the first signs of another paperwork migraine begins to set in. She looks around helplessly as hundreds of "loyal" disciples begin to gasp their last breaths amid the towering inferno. IRIS: Its going to take me a month to sort through all these people....DAMN YOU SPACE POPE!! |
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I knew it! I knew she was pure evil incarnate. I always smelled something burning from her office, but she always claimed it was something to do with FlyingPig and roasting coffee. BURNING BEANS my ass, Iris! I'm onto you now. (Excellent work, TheSpacePope! Can't wait for your next installment!) |
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| Reply by: Vienna at Sep 11, '08 23:43 | |
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She glares at Vienna while stroking her Hell Hound, Scooter, behind the ears to calm him. Scooter has a thing for nuns and Vienna has a thing for wearing a nun's habit. I was burning beans... We just never said what kind of beans! Did you not ever what happened to Daera's testicles? They are not in my purse as so many think. They are in a gar on my desk burning with the eternal fires of damnation. She smiles as she runs a fingernail down Vienna's cheek, feeling the tug of her skin as she watches a bead of blood form. You do remember those leather straps I had you oil when you lived in my.. Cave right? We use those for the lashings. She turns to see Space Pope running down the street patting small fires on his legs out and points her finger directly at his ass smiling and whispers a word only she knows. His pants suddenly burst into flames. Serves him right, I told him I didn't want to go in there. |
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| Reply by: Iris at Sep 12, '08 00:46 | |
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She blushes and places her flask back into her purse. I blame all slurring of words and missed words on the meds for my paperwork stress... Damn that Pope. Damn him to.. Wait, I don't want him! |
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| Reply by: Iris at Sep 12, '08 00:51 | |
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| *sigh* Nobody wants a missionary. | |
| Reply by: TheSpacePope at Sep 12, '08 01:27 | |
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| No one wants a missionary yet everyone wants to go missionary...the people can never deiced what they want. To the closet oh holy one? | |
| Reply by: AlexisVonWaffle at Sep 20, '08 07:57 | |
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| Just shows you that "Satan" really isn't much more evil then God, well his deciples in this case. Wonder how she manages to not set her HQ on fire... Or anyone within it! Really I would like to know! I'm sure I'm not the only one. | |
| Reply by: Alice at Sep 20, '08 13:53 | |
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Oh, please. Haven't you ever heard of Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah? She was merely saved from the burning office from divine intervention. This woman is pure! Syriana nods as he performs a cross on his chest, praying for the eternal damnation of AlexisVonWaffle via spontaneous combustion.. |
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| Reply by: Syriana at Sep 20, '08 14:17 | |
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| Does lighting a match around Alexis after a bean quesadilla count as "spontaneous combustion"? | |
| Reply by: TheSpacePope at Sep 23, '08 00:29 | |
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Sure. Whatever makes him die the most humiliating will suffice, though. |
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| Reply by: Syriana at Sep 23, '08 00:36 | |
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verily, suffer not thy evil thoughts to canker thy mind. "Vengeance is MINE" sayeth the Lord, as well as the lesser known "And The Space Pope pulleth MINE trigger, bitches!" Yea, the ravages of revenge will rend the soul of even the most disciplined of Mafiosi, so turn the other cheek. Concentrate thy will upon the deliverance of thy dope that thy Crew Leader's dues might be paid and they suffer not thine ass to be put to the flame! Rest thy weary mind and know that in His wrath The Space Pope will surely deliver the flaming arrows and pestilence of hell and retribution upon the heads of thine enemies. Prices may vary... |
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| Reply by: TheSpacePope at Sep 23, '08 22:09 | |
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