Overheard at the Bergamot...good Pope John whose ascencion is June 3, is the subject of a rather droll episode of the volcanic angelic ride share that occurs on Saturdays for devotees of Scapolari. Appollo's chariots had long ago warned that their vehicles were getting mangy and needed refurbishing and Roncalli being on the weightier side they consulted Elijah who confirmed that while out in the trans Haran desert hidalgo style hustle Angelo had snacked on angelic pizzas until the oven gave out--Jezebel in hot pursuit in a Huracan was only stymied at the last minute by a carlos acutis bespoke baltimore catechism boobytrap where a band of seraphim decoyed the devious queen. They dispatched a large furgone bearing the placard "Oversized Load" and she thought they were making fun of her oversized throne room with the gilded servizi.
It's important to realize that in the valangaverse funny fantasy fairy tales, time and space do not preclude people from meeting; thus, Roncalli could easily go for a coffee with Luciani and that is indeed what occured this morning. (Angelo and Albino, the two As forming a Mountain of Mercy.). The two chums bore down on the Bergamot in the wee hours. Technically it's not Sunday yet remarked Roncalli but let's give them some extra business so they can take tomorrow off. We'll have three of everything, Luciano informed the counter. Not so fast said an ICE agent who had popped up from behind a booth. What's this dilexit nos pamphlet you've got stashed in your robes here? It looks seditious. You mean delicious, said Roncalli, chomping with gaudium maximum on a Bergamot doughnut. Today is the feast of Longinus, the gates of Paradise were actually opened by him in some bizarre way, and we're celebrating Lanciano here at the bakery.
Let's see your paradise papers, said the agent. By all means, Luciani said grandly, whipping out a spare copy of Dilixet Nos and presenting it to the official with a big Bergamot abbraccio. Geez, you smell like chocolate frosting, Anyways, I'm impounding this spear of destiny for good measure. All of a sudden a volcano burst forth from the bakery oven, coating everyone in mercy and bavarian cream. Angels were heard singing "Panis Angelicus". The ensuing river of carmelly lava allowed the papal duo to escape across the Hudson to Jersey where the Cake boss had baked a gargantuan cake for Pope Frank's anniversary, worthy of the cakes of Smith of Hoboken Major.
All of a sudden the vatican hotline buzzed. It's CVS, said the nun, the clerk is being held hostage due to a milk dud shortage. What should we do?
I'll handle it said Roncalli, Hello? You say Weinstein took all the duds? I'll be right there.
the result was Roncalli's dominus wobiscum domenical doughnut dividend which distributes doughnuts without distinction up to dieci mila doughnut denariuses to anyone on the face of the earth. In this story that is, but it has yet to be created in real life.