My Karma Just Ran Over Your Dogma
Nabiki "Break The Mold" Challenge.
Dark Reverie
Rated R
DISCLAIMER: YEAH, YEAH. I KNOW. GARGOYLES AIN'T MINE. THEY ALL BELONG TO THE GREAT MOUSE. DON'T SUE, I'M BROKE.
Yeah, send all your praise and flames to Dark_Reverie_Omega@yahoo.com
***************
"MY KARMA JUST RAN OVER YOUR DOGMA"
You asked for Owen to be given an "alternative lifestyle." How about one as a member of the clergy? (No offense meant to anyone who has faith...this is meant as tongue in cheek)
Owen Burnett grew board with the endless monotony of working for David Xanatos. For almost two decade, he had attended his human employer's every whim. He had rescued him countless times from failed confrontations. As Xanatos' majordomo, he had done everything from chase rogue steel clan robots to wiping shit from Alex's diaper. The elf-turned-human was most weary of sweeping up stone skin and Gargoyle dropping night after night. One could only scrub castle stone for so long without getting chapped hands.
In a rare burst of temper, Owen submitted his resignation to David. While he held great affection for the mortal, he knew that the sexy multimillionaire would never leave his wife. Owen truly contemplated various career options. [For what is a Fae-curse-forever-to-be-human qualified for at this stage in his life?]
He considered running away and joining the circus.
[No, I don't look good in clown make-up. Besides, the last time I dressed in make-up, I won a hundred dollars in a Ms. Gay New York Contest. Oh, and that panstick! Ach! It just leaves SUCH a residue on my skin.]
He considered politics.
[Where else could I have a steady supply of cigars? Would I have a good supply of interns...or just interns that I could turn inside out...Hee hee hee.]
Owen quickly dismissed such rabid thoughts.
During his musings, he managed to flip onto a channel showing re-runs of Oral Roberts, Jim Bakker, and Al Sharpton doing tag-team preaching. The inspiration came upon him and he knew that he had last found his true calling. The restrained young man felt himself free of his spiritual shackles for the first time in centuries. So, he decided to become a member of the clergy.
[Besides, I hear offertory is a steady supply of beer money!]
Owen traipsed toward the most seminary in the country. Admission requirements were quite steep. Yet, he found such an intriguing challenge to his liking. Within three weeks, he and four other seminary students standing before good the head friar. Brother Buttifucko welcomed all four of the prospective students. His annoying Brooklyn accent was enough to keep Owen's attention as he and the other students stood nude in the courtyard of the seminary.
"Yeah, it's really simple." Brother Buttifucko gestured wildly as he spoke. "We only want da purest of da pure. So, here's what's going on. We give three tests.. you pass and you're in. You fail and you're OUTTA HERE."
Owen half-expected the priest to scream, 'Play ball!' He grew quite apprehensive when Brother Buttifucko chose to tie tinkling silver bells to the end of each student's penis. "Fear not, my sons. This is but a measurement of your purity. Put on the spiritual armor of the Lord and nothing shall tempt you."
Owen simply longed to block the draft on his backside. He was freezing off his arse!
The first test was surprising simple. The Budweiser girls walked by wearing little more that pieces of red cloth held together with string. In the background noise of the seminary, Owen heard strains of "The Thong Song."
Three buxom blondes walked by the students adorned in dental floss for the butt. One of the bells went off. Owen felt sympathy for the first two young men whose penises rose proudly to the occasion. However, the bell didn't save them. Brother Buttifucko sadly dismissed them. "I'm sorry, my sons. The Lord feels that you are not meant to serve in this capacity."
He returned his attention to his two remaining students. "Now, we must truly test your piety."
He motioned for the Playboy centerfold of the month to join his side. Owen never recalled her name...it was Barbie, Bimbo, Buffy...something along those lines. Brother Buttifucko stepped back and allowed the playmate to stride her wares before the two young men. Without faith, the student's bell rang loudly in the courtyard. The good Abbot shook his head sadly and dismissed him.
Brother Buttifucko heartily shook Owen's hand. "Congratulations! Welcome to Seminary. I'll know that you'll be a welcome addition here."
He turned to lead Owen on a guided tour when the good Abbot dropped his keys. He bent over to retrieve them and his humble friar's robe rose well above his thighs. That final silver bell rang out as all was revealed in a stunning vision to Owen. He knew he had finally found his life's coming ...er....calling.
Owen studied diligently and was eventually ordained a man of the cloth. He went before the assigning committee and was given his first parish. It was a simple church with faithful folk filling its pews. Owen felt that the head priest liked life and zests in his sermons during church. He secretly took notes on how to improve his own delivery to the masses during mass.
He asked the good father for hints and tips. "Well, Father Burnett. I like to take a sip of the Communion wine before service. We store it behind the Altar."
The elderly pastor slowly knelt and withdrew a drawer from the back of the Altar. He motioned to where a bottle of wine laid next to a freshly baked loaf of bread. "Before Eucharist, take a few swigs and you'll find yourself at ease, Lad."
"I'm very grateful. Thank you." Owen pumped the pastors's.....er...hand vigorously.
Sunday finally arrived. Owen wrote several drafts of what he considered the ultimate sermon. He rehearsed his oration before the mirror countless times. He changed his tie fourteen times and his underwear at least six. He donned his clerical robes and made his way toward the pulpit. The young man decided to make good on the pastor's advice and readily drank of the sacred wine.
Oh, his sermon was glorious. He had the congregation on their feet yelling "Hallelujah!" The masses in the morning service reverently cried out, "Amen!" Owen found his speaking voice as he bellowed out the Good Word. He found his fist pounding the pulpit and he came alive as he never before felt. As the service wound down, the offertory plates brimmed over with money.
Afterwards, a very happy Owen rushed to the good pastor. The pastor held a very stoic expression upon his grizzled face. Owen eagerly hugged the pastor. "Sir, did you hear my sermon? How did I do?"
"Well, Son." He cleared his throat and tugged at his clerical collar. "I thought your delivery was animated and well-projected. However, there were a few points of dogma that stand correcting."
"Please, share them with me!" Owen begged.
"First of all, my dear son, there were twelve disciples and not ten. There were Ten Commandments and not twelve. We do NOT refer to our Lord and his disciples as J.C and the posse. We refer to Our Blessed Mother as the Virgin Mary and not as Mary with the cherry. Lastly, Father Burnett, Our beloved trinity is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: NOT DADDY, JUNIOR, AND THE SPOOK!"
Have fun with it.
Nabiki "Break The Mold" Challenge.
Dark Reverie
Rated R
DISCLAIMER: YEAH, YEAH. I KNOW. GARGOYLES AIN'T MINE. THEY ALL BELONG TO THE GREAT MOUSE. DON'T SUE, I'M BROKE.
Yeah, send all your praise and flames to Dark_Reverie_Omega@yahoo.com
***************
"MY KARMA JUST RAN OVER YOUR DOGMA"
You asked for Owen to be given an "alternative lifestyle." How about one as a member of the clergy? (No offense meant to anyone who has faith...this is meant as tongue in cheek)
Owen Burnett grew board with the endless monotony of working for David Xanatos. For almost two decade, he had attended his human employer's every whim. He had rescued him countless times from failed confrontations. As Xanatos' majordomo, he had done everything from chase rogue steel clan robots to wiping shit from Alex's diaper. The elf-turned-human was most weary of sweeping up stone skin and Gargoyle dropping night after night. One could only scrub castle stone for so long without getting chapped hands.
In a rare burst of temper, Owen submitted his resignation to David. While he held great affection for the mortal, he knew that the sexy multimillionaire would never leave his wife. Owen truly contemplated various career options. [For what is a Fae-curse-forever-to-be-human qualified for at this stage in his life?]
He considered running away and joining the circus.
[No, I don't look good in clown make-up. Besides, the last time I dressed in make-up, I won a hundred dollars in a Ms. Gay New York Contest. Oh, and that panstick! Ach! It just leaves SUCH a residue on my skin.]
He considered politics.
[Where else could I have a steady supply of cigars? Would I have a good supply of interns...or just interns that I could turn inside out...Hee hee hee.]
Owen quickly dismissed such rabid thoughts.
During his musings, he managed to flip onto a channel showing re-runs of Oral Roberts, Jim Bakker, and Al Sharpton doing tag-team preaching. The inspiration came upon him and he knew that he had last found his true calling. The restrained young man felt himself free of his spiritual shackles for the first time in centuries. So, he decided to become a member of the clergy.
[Besides, I hear offertory is a steady supply of beer money!]
Owen traipsed toward the most seminary in the country. Admission requirements were quite steep. Yet, he found such an intriguing challenge to his liking. Within three weeks, he and four other seminary students standing before good the head friar. Brother Buttifucko welcomed all four of the prospective students. His annoying Brooklyn accent was enough to keep Owen's attention as he and the other students stood nude in the courtyard of the seminary.
"Yeah, it's really simple." Brother Buttifucko gestured wildly as he spoke. "We only want da purest of da pure. So, here's what's going on. We give three tests.. you pass and you're in. You fail and you're OUTTA HERE."
Owen half-expected the priest to scream, 'Play ball!' He grew quite apprehensive when Brother Buttifucko chose to tie tinkling silver bells to the end of each student's penis. "Fear not, my sons. This is but a measurement of your purity. Put on the spiritual armor of the Lord and nothing shall tempt you."
Owen simply longed to block the draft on his backside. He was freezing off his arse!
The first test was surprising simple. The Budweiser girls walked by wearing little more that pieces of red cloth held together with string. In the background noise of the seminary, Owen heard strains of "The Thong Song."
Three buxom blondes walked by the students adorned in dental floss for the butt. One of the bells went off. Owen felt sympathy for the first two young men whose penises rose proudly to the occasion. However, the bell didn't save them. Brother Buttifucko sadly dismissed them. "I'm sorry, my sons. The Lord feels that you are not meant to serve in this capacity."
He returned his attention to his two remaining students. "Now, we must truly test your piety."
He motioned for the Playboy centerfold of the month to join his side. Owen never recalled her name...it was Barbie, Bimbo, Buffy...something along those lines. Brother Buttifucko stepped back and allowed the playmate to stride her wares before the two young men. Without faith, the student's bell rang loudly in the courtyard. The good Abbot shook his head sadly and dismissed him.
Brother Buttifucko heartily shook Owen's hand. "Congratulations! Welcome to Seminary. I'll know that you'll be a welcome addition here."
He turned to lead Owen on a guided tour when the good Abbot dropped his keys. He bent over to retrieve them and his humble friar's robe rose well above his thighs. That final silver bell rang out as all was revealed in a stunning vision to Owen. He knew he had finally found his life's coming ...er....calling.
Owen studied diligently and was eventually ordained a man of the cloth. He went before the assigning committee and was given his first parish. It was a simple church with faithful folk filling its pews. Owen felt that the head priest liked life and zests in his sermons during church. He secretly took notes on how to improve his own delivery to the masses during mass.
He asked the good father for hints and tips. "Well, Father Burnett. I like to take a sip of the Communion wine before service. We store it behind the Altar."
The elderly pastor slowly knelt and withdrew a drawer from the back of the Altar. He motioned to where a bottle of wine laid next to a freshly baked loaf of bread. "Before Eucharist, take a few swigs and you'll find yourself at ease, Lad."
"I'm very grateful. Thank you." Owen pumped the pastors's.....er...hand vigorously.
Sunday finally arrived. Owen wrote several drafts of what he considered the ultimate sermon. He rehearsed his oration before the mirror countless times. He changed his tie fourteen times and his underwear at least six. He donned his clerical robes and made his way toward the pulpit. The young man decided to make good on the pastor's advice and readily drank of the sacred wine.
Oh, his sermon was glorious. He had the congregation on their feet yelling "Hallelujah!" The masses in the morning service reverently cried out, "Amen!" Owen found his speaking voice as he bellowed out the Good Word. He found his fist pounding the pulpit and he came alive as he never before felt. As the service wound down, the offertory plates brimmed over with money.
Afterwards, a very happy Owen rushed to the good pastor. The pastor held a very stoic expression upon his grizzled face. Owen eagerly hugged the pastor. "Sir, did you hear my sermon? How did I do?"
"Well, Son." He cleared his throat and tugged at his clerical collar. "I thought your delivery was animated and well-projected. However, there were a few points of dogma that stand correcting."
"Please, share them with me!" Owen begged.
"First of all, my dear son, there were twelve disciples and not ten. There were Ten Commandments and not twelve. We do NOT refer to our Lord and his disciples as J.C and the posse. We refer to Our Blessed Mother as the Virgin Mary and not as Mary with the cherry. Lastly, Father Burnett, Our beloved trinity is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: NOT DADDY, JUNIOR, AND THE SPOOK!"
Have fun with it.