It was one of those mornings: rainy and dreary, and the people in the café were mentally trying to find excuses for not getting back to work, longing for someone to raise some pointed issue to provide an excuse for a discussion.
Just then, the young assistant priest came in, and the lady who runs the gift shop mused, "I wonder if His Holiness the Pontiff wears the boxer shorts or the briefs." Slowly, people offered their views. Someone said, "Surely he wears the briefs; his garçons require a home at his age." The barber thought so too, as did a governmental functionary (who seldom works, anyway). I opinioned that he preferred the boxers: he requires room and they come in different colors and can have pretty printed designs on them. Surely he wore some with little gold crosses and "Souvenir of Germany" on them? Our young priest begged off an opinion, saying that he was not privy to the launderings in the Vatican.
The local communist offered his usual radical view: could M. the Pope wear a thong? My view on this was that this would only be done in Lent, when some form of penance would be required. (Speaking from experience.) At any rate, we informed him that it would not be a red one, except perhaps on Penecostal Sunday.
A cough. The motely irreverend crew turned around. It was the old pastor. We were caught! And due a tongue-lashing of the fullest amount. All of us guilty people, even our communist, shuddered.
The pastor observed, "Surely His Holiness goes commando." Tension immediately vanished.
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