One Hell of a Nice Guy

The Pope would like to see you." she says unexpectedly.

"Don't give me that shit," I fire back.

She ... is my Guardian Angel ... a chain smoking, drinker of Pabst Blue Ribbon and Bourbon ... loogy spitting ... skinny ... pasty ... dirty ... Cherubim with a broken wing and a robe that doesn't fit.

"No seriously," she replies ... "I don't know why but the Holy Father wants to see you."

It strikes me for the first time in our relationship that I have no idea what faith my Guardian Angel practices.

"Are you Catholic?" I ask.

She laughs taking a long drag off her cigarette ... "No ... no ... Hell No."

"Well you're not a Baptist!"

She wails in laugher, bending over exposing a breast, limp oily hair hanging over the railing on the Beloved Back Deck ... which tickles me  ... so I'm laughing at her laughing ... then we're both laughing together.

Finally calming down, she asks if I want a beer.

"Not yet," I say holding up my hand in protest ... but a PBR magically appears from ... I don't know where.

Toasting her can with mine, I hear her gravely voice say, "Well the Pope wants an audience."

I stare at her in disbelief for a long time and finally ask ... "Do you know that you sound exactly like Janis Joplin?"

Smiling, she sits up straight, adjusts her robe and says, "Thanks."

"You're welcome. It's pretty cool actually," I say taking a sip. "So what's the Pope want with me?"

"I have no idea," she replies taking her own sip. "He's sinner friendly though."

"Yeah, I like that about him."

"Why is this taking so long?" Pope Francis demands in an epiphany, "I'm on a schedule."

"WOAH!" I mumble.

My Guardian Angel makes another PBR appear, hands it to Francis and he takes a swig.

"This is pretty cool," I eventually say. "Sarah wants to go to Italy and see the Vatican ... can you get us Hall Passes?"

Shaking his head, he flashes that sinner friendly smile, leans forward and explains, "No you have to pay like everyone else ... mea cupa."

"I completely understand," I reply, "business is business."

Laughing he takes another swing and says, "I deal with a lot of assholes ... been in Washington, the Capitol City ... I just needed a break and figured this is safe ... I waited till Sarah left."

"Smart," I tell him.

"She's a Saint," Francis says.

"Yeah," my Guardian Angel and I sigh simultaneously.

"Alright, I've got to get back," he heavily says. "I'm working on getting rid of Boehner."

"Really?" I ask.

"It's a start," he shrugs.

"Want another beer Father?" my Guardian Angel asks.

"I do," he slumps, "but ... Micheal's been to Washington ... he knows what it's like ... it's a lot of work and I gotta get back."

I nod as Pope Francis disappears.

"Damn," I say to my Guardian Angel. "He's a Hell of a nice guy!"

"Yeah," she agrees, "but you know what's great about him?"

"What?"

"He likes people like us," she says lighting another cigarette.

"Hell of a nice guy," I repeat.