His hearing was far too unstable to catch the whispered joke that passed between them, but when Matthew's gloved fist grazed his face, leaving a stinging red welt, the fit of laughter that erupted between them caused his shortening temper to explode.
"That's it! Boys, you're done for the night. Out! Out!"
They stared at him like a pair of spotted fawns caught in the headlights of a speeding car.
"But Father... why?" asked Jeremy, stripping off his boxing gloves and dropping them to the floor of the ring.
"Maybe I can't hear your little jokes," the priest answered hotly, "but I do know that you're not here to fool around and act ridiculous. And if all you're going to do is waste my time, then you've no reason to be here!"
"Sorry Father Mulcahy."
The two boys apologized in unision, hanging their heads, though they couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into the Father lately. He had been irritable and uncommonly sullen, and there were rumors that one of the Sisters had walked into his study to find him nearly in tears, gazing at a number of black and white photos with something like longing.
"Boxing requires concentration unless you want to get your head knocked off," Father Mulcahy went on in his lecture, his anger waning as he did so, "and such jocularity is most unbefitting... of the... situation..."
"And now, for the moment no one has been waiting for... the Father Mulcahy sound-alike contest!" Hawkeye cried jovially, snatching the hat off Father Mulcahy's head. At first he protested, and then fell back laughing with the rest as the ravenhaired surgeon donned his hat and his most solemn face.
"My word to Hawkeye, this jocularity is most unseemly... here, you try it!"
Klinger recieved the hat and stared at it, pausing his work on the broken projector. "Me? Oh, uh, how can you make jokes at a time like this? Oh!"
Frank Burns caught the hat as it was flung into the crowd, sucking his lips in nervously. Spurred on by the expectant looks of everyone in the tent, he placed it on his head and giggled wildly, exclaiming
"Post-Op is collapsing, and the OR's on fire!"
Naturally he tossed it to Margaret, who followed up seriously "And someone has broken into the sacramental wine!" She then sent the hat spinning towards Radar, who jumped as it bounced against his shoulder.
"Oh, uh, sorry Father," he giggled "it seems that Private Simpson has come down with a case of hepatitis. He's a most remarkable shade of yellow." As he passed it on, the tent shook with laughter, for Colonel Potter, in a fit of chuckles, brayed from beneath the rim of the hat
"Jocularity! Jocularity!"
"Now, let me just say what I think of all these impersonations...!" Father Mulcahy laughed, retrieving his hat and placing it right where it belonged – back on his head. But the movie started up and instead he returned to his seat, smiling.
"...Father? Father Mulcahy, are you okay?"
Snapping out of his thoughts, Father Mulcahy barely heard Matthew's voice, raised as it was, and lifted a hand to push his rounded glasses further up his nose from where they had slipped.
"Ah, yes, my son... what was I saying?"
"You said that such jocularity is most un-"but before he could finish, the Father bust into unrestrained laughter and simply walked away, shaking his head and quivering with mirth. Matthew and Jeremy stared at eachother for several moments, before giving up on the thought of ever understanding the odd priest and heading for the showers.
That night, one of the Sisters knocked gently on Father Mulcahy's study door and turned the handle, as he had a tendency to not hear the knocking with the substantial loss of hearing he had suffered during the Korean War. However, she quickly mouthed an apology and left again when she saw that he was deeply immersed in the writing of a letter, a pleasant smile on his face and an old, worn hat on his head.
"That's it! Boys, you're done for the night. Out! Out!"
They stared at him like a pair of spotted fawns caught in the headlights of a speeding car.
"But Father... why?" asked Jeremy, stripping off his boxing gloves and dropping them to the floor of the ring.
"Maybe I can't hear your little jokes," the priest answered hotly, "but I do know that you're not here to fool around and act ridiculous. And if all you're going to do is waste my time, then you've no reason to be here!"
"Sorry Father Mulcahy."
The two boys apologized in unision, hanging their heads, though they couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into the Father lately. He had been irritable and uncommonly sullen, and there were rumors that one of the Sisters had walked into his study to find him nearly in tears, gazing at a number of black and white photos with something like longing.
"Boxing requires concentration unless you want to get your head knocked off," Father Mulcahy went on in his lecture, his anger waning as he did so, "and such jocularity is most unbefitting... of the... situation..."
"And now, for the moment no one has been waiting for... the Father Mulcahy sound-alike contest!" Hawkeye cried jovially, snatching the hat off Father Mulcahy's head. At first he protested, and then fell back laughing with the rest as the ravenhaired surgeon donned his hat and his most solemn face.
"My word to Hawkeye, this jocularity is most unseemly... here, you try it!"
Klinger recieved the hat and stared at it, pausing his work on the broken projector. "Me? Oh, uh, how can you make jokes at a time like this? Oh!"
Frank Burns caught the hat as it was flung into the crowd, sucking his lips in nervously. Spurred on by the expectant looks of everyone in the tent, he placed it on his head and giggled wildly, exclaiming
"Post-Op is collapsing, and the OR's on fire!"
Naturally he tossed it to Margaret, who followed up seriously "And someone has broken into the sacramental wine!" She then sent the hat spinning towards Radar, who jumped as it bounced against his shoulder.
"Oh, uh, sorry Father," he giggled "it seems that Private Simpson has come down with a case of hepatitis. He's a most remarkable shade of yellow." As he passed it on, the tent shook with laughter, for Colonel Potter, in a fit of chuckles, brayed from beneath the rim of the hat
"Jocularity! Jocularity!"
"Now, let me just say what I think of all these impersonations...!" Father Mulcahy laughed, retrieving his hat and placing it right where it belonged – back on his head. But the movie started up and instead he returned to his seat, smiling.
"...Father? Father Mulcahy, are you okay?"
Snapping out of his thoughts, Father Mulcahy barely heard Matthew's voice, raised as it was, and lifted a hand to push his rounded glasses further up his nose from where they had slipped.
"Ah, yes, my son... what was I saying?"
"You said that such jocularity is most un-"but before he could finish, the Father bust into unrestrained laughter and simply walked away, shaking his head and quivering with mirth. Matthew and Jeremy stared at eachother for several moments, before giving up on the thought of ever understanding the odd priest and heading for the showers.
That night, one of the Sisters knocked gently on Father Mulcahy's study door and turned the handle, as he had a tendency to not hear the knocking with the substantial loss of hearing he had suffered during the Korean War. However, she quickly mouthed an apology and left again when she saw that he was deeply immersed in the writing of a letter, a pleasant smile on his face and an old, worn hat on his head.