My Big Fat Catholic Crossover Fanfiction

by CatholicCat93

A detailed outline of a fanfiction that's been percolating in the back of my head for the past eight years or so. I'm not sure if it will ever be fully fleshed out, but I figured I might as well share what I've got.

My Big Fat Catholic Crossover Fanfiction

To be clear to everyone, this isn't a fully fleshed-out fanfiction, just a very detailed plotline of one that I've been slowly working on over the course of the last several years. If you're not a fan of the traditionalist Catholic view of the world, I would not recommend that you read this. Also, if you're not a fan of injecting grimdark material into an otherwise bright and innocent scenario, this is probably not a story you want bouncing around in your head. If anyone wants to try and turn this into a fully developed story with dialogue and whatnot, by all means, have a go, but let me know beforehand so I can help with any fine points of Catholic theology or morals that may be discussed.

FRANCHISES INVOLVED: Calvin and Hobbes, Don Camillo, Father Brown, Raggedy Ann, Tintin, Wallace and Gromit

CREDITS: G.K. Chesterton, Johnny Gruelle, Giovannino Guareschi, Nick Park, Georges Remy, and Bill Watterson. Special credit goes to Maria H. for being the first person to want to hear my crazy fanfictions and see how they turn out. Also, special thanks to Dr. Peter K. for his much-appreciated advice on which story path to pursue.

ACT ONE

After being publicly assaulted and humiliated by Moe for the umpteenth time, Calvin decides to teach him a lesson once and for all by surprising him at home with a visit from Hobbes. Hobbes seems unusually reluctant go through with this plan, but Calvin – thinking Hobbes is just being cowardly or fastidious about his eating habits – finally wears him down and they track Moe back to his tumbledown house in the projects, where they manage to sneak past his drink-and-drug-addled mother and catch him playing with the toy truck he stole from Calvin. Hobbes desperately attempts to make his presence known to Moe, but is completely ignored, even when tries with all his might to maul the boy. Finally, after years of blissful ignorance, Calvin realizes that only he can see Hobbes as a real-life talking tiger. At this point, Moe catches sight of Calvin – who just barely escapes another beating – and the boys run home with their (real and metaphorical) tails between their legs.

When he confronts Hobbes about his apparent lack of reality, Hobbes woefully admits that Calvin is the only one who can see him as he is and interact with him – the reason being (as far as he can tell) that Calvin is the only one who genuinely believes in him. He also reveals that this isn't the first time he has had to go through this: When Hobbes was first put together and given as a gift to a shy, sickly boy living in India during the British Raj, he didn't realize that the boy was the only one who could see him until after the family returned to Britain. One day, Hobbes was left behind during a trip to London Zoo and found himself unable to interact with anyone or anything else. With all the subsequent companions he found over the years, he was too ashamed to admit this until they figured it out for themselves. Hobbes begs forgiveness, swearing on his life that he never meant to hurt Calvin and that their friendship truly means the world to him. But Calvin – feeling horrifically betrayed and taken advantage of, no matter what Hobbes says – shows him no mercy and even tries to un-imagine him as punishment. He can't, of course – Hobbes really is a living, sentient creature – but he does the next best thing: Banishing Hobbes to the closet and refusing to acknowledge his existence thenceforward.

When Calvin tells his parents that he is done with Hobbes, Calvin's Dad – whose name I think is Bill Watterson, since he looks like a self-portrait of the real Bill Watterson without his mustache – is wholeheartedly supportive because he believes it'll help Calvin "build character," not to mention give him some peace and quiet. (For as much as he may love Calvin deep down, I think Bill is a deeply immature and self-centered man – more like his son than he would ever admit – so the latter would be the primary reason in his mind.) Calvin's Mom – whose name I think is Melissa Richmond, after Bill Watterson's wife – is much less enthusiastic, knowing how much Calvin's emotional health depends on having Hobbes as an outlet. But she knows she won't convince Bill, so she begrudgingly holds her peace. At first, it seems like leaving Hobbes behind is actually helping Calvin: His grades start improving, his chronic misbehavior subsides, and he sincerely apologizes to Susie Derkins for all the times he was mean to her without expecting her forgiveness in return. After much consideration, she decides to forgive him anyway and even offers to be his friend – much to the consternation of their fellow students, Miss Wormwood, and Susie's parents.

But unfortunately, all is not well. True to Melissa's worries, without Hobbes as an outlet, all the anger, fear, frustration, and hurt Calvin feels at not being a normal, socially accepted kid – which he usually covers up with the bravado of not caring what other people think – begins building up and manifesting itself in much darker and unhealthier ways (I haven't figured out what those might be yet, but they could potentially involve self-harm and/or petty crime). It doesn't help that Moe has noticed how much more vulnerable Calvin is now and is taking full advantage of it to make his life at school even more of a living hell. Melissa demands that Miss Wormwood put a stop to this cruelty but finds that – not entirely without justification – she has completely written Calvin off as a bad seed and refuses to investigate the matter unless Calvin can prove he isn't provoking Moe just to get attention (which she also believes is the real goal behind his recent attempts at good behavior). Mr. Spittle and Bill are no help either, the former having no good reason (in his mind) to doubt Miss Wormwood's judgment, the latter being convinced that a bit of "tough love" is just what Calvin needs to come to grips with the real world. Things finally come to a head when Moe gives Calvin a particularly brutal beating on the playground and also hurts Susie when she tries to intervene. Upon seeing his now-only friend get injured for his sake, Calvin is finally pushed beyond his limits and goes completely out of his skull, attacking Moe like a wild animal and very nearly killing him (imagine Ralphie Parker on bath salts and you'll get a vague idea of what I mean). When Miss Wormwood – having conveniently not noticed anything until just now – attempts to break things up, Calvin attacks her as well, resulting in Mr. Spittle calling the police.

Still in the grips of his fury, Calvin manages to break free of the police and evade them long enough to run back home. But as he comes to his senses, the crushing weight of the comedown triggers a flood of toxic emotions over his broken friendship with Hobbes, which in turn triggers a complete nervous breakdown. In short order, Calvin decides that life just isn't worth living anymore. Melissa, who happens to be working in the garden, hears Calvin climbing on the roof and has only enough time to question what he is doing there before he tries to commit suicide by jumping (only to land in her rose bushes when he was aiming for the garden path). When a distraught Melissa calls 9-1-1, the police show up along with the paramedics and Calvin is promptly arrested. Thankfully, the ensuing investigation proves that Calvin was obviously not in his right mind when he assaulted Moe and that Moe's increased bullying of Calvin was totally unprovoked. As a result, Miss Wormwood and Mr. Spittle are both sacked for criminal negligence and Calvin avoids juvenile hall, instead receiving a mandatory stay in a juvenile mental hospital.

For the first week or so of his treatment, Bill and Melissa try their best to work together for their son's benefit. But when Bill staunchly refuses to admit that his actions (or lack thereof) had any bearing on Calvin's mental state, Melissa finally loses her cool and – channeling decades' worth of unresolved anger – verbally eviscerates him for (among other things) never truly accepting Calvin as his son, apparently not caring meaningfully about anyone but himself, and marrying her in the first place when he didn't want children. She then locks herself in Calvin's room, takes Hobbes out of the closet, and tearfully admits that she always wished he were a real tiger deep down, if only so that Calvin could have at least one real friend in the world – and she wishes it now more than ever, if only it meant Calvin could be a happy child again. This confession miraculously allows her to see Hobbes for what he really is and – after sufficiently recovering from the shock – she joyfully takes him to the mental hospital to be reunited with Calvin.

When Calvin – who has been semi-comatose up to this point – comes out of his stupor and realizes that Melissa truly sees Hobbes like he does, he agrees to revoke Hobbes' banishment and talk things out. After three hours of picking up the pieces, the two friends finally reconcile, complete with a solemn promise that there'll be no more secrets between them – though Calvin and Melissa agree that they should keep their knowledge of Hobbes' reality a secret from the doctors. To prove his word, Hobbes tells Calvin one of his longest-kept secrets: His original name was Habib (meaning "beloved" in Arabic), given to him by his maker, the British boy's nursemaid (an Indian Muslim); he received his nickname when the boy found him reading a copy of Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan and decided that "Hobbes" was a better fit, given his philosophical nature. Calvin reciprocates – though fully expecting to be taunted mercilessly – by admitting that Hobbes was right all along: He really does like Susie and has finally gotten to be her friend. But in a delightful twist, Hobbes reveals that he only taunted Calvin about Susie in previous years to force him to think about her instead of just dismissing her as a "slimy girl" – and, while Hobbes can't help being pleased with himself for calling it, he couldn't be happier that Calvin and Susie are finally starting to build something.

After a month-and-a-half of treatment, Calvin is declared psychologically healthy and is discharged. Unfortunately, things aren't the best at home: In addition to Calvin being expelled from his old school, his parents' marriage is now severely strained, Bill has come to resent his presence (and vice versa) and is spending as much time at work as possible, and – along with Melissa – he still has to pretend that Hobbes isn't real for the sake of his freedom. But all things considered, Calvin manages to return to an otherwise normal life, minus the disbandment of the G.R.O.S.S. Club due to his still-blossoming friendship with Susie. Their friendship isn't doing Susie any favors – her classmates have now gone from trying to warn her off to giving her the silent treatment – but she doesn't care in the slightest, which Calvin appreciates more than he could ever express.

After Calvin and Hobbes' roughhousing causes some minor household destruction and Melissa holds both of them responsible for the first time, the two friends have another deep conversation in which two important points are discussed:

1) Hobbes finally gets off his high horse regarding the superiority of tigers, for the simple reason that – being a very anthropomorphic tiger – he has just as many human flaws as Calvin does and is therefore in no position to exult his species. For the first time ever, the two begin to regard each other, not as a human and a tiger who happen to be friends, but as two cosmic misfits brought together by good fortune.

2) Calvin mentions an idea he had about Hobbes not being able to interact with other people: Perhaps the reason he can only be seen by those who genuinely believe in his reality is because, on some level, he doesn't believe in his reality. This idea resonates deeply with Hobbes, who reveals that he has indeed struggled with deep-seated existential angst for as long as he can remember. But Calvin assures him that, if he lets go of his self-doubt, accepts who he is, and takes charge of it, he could finally prove to the universe (and to himself) that he is alive – and, more importantly, he has a right to be alive.

Then, the unthinkable happens: Moe resurfaces, horrifically scarred and hell-bent on revenge. One night – after three weeks of making threatening phone calls, leaving dead animals on the doorstep, etc. – he breaks into Calvin's house while his parents are out (Bill working late at the office and Melissa – ironically enough – down at the police station complaining about these occurrences), cuts the phone lines, chloroforms Calvin, and drags him away. Since Moe doesn't believe in Hobbes, the latter can do nothing to stop him – for the moment. Just when it seems that Moe has triumphed and Calvin is doomed to whatever fate awaits him, Hobbes remembers Calvin's words about proving to himself that he has a right to be alive and finally realizes that he doesn't need to prove it – Calvin loves him unconditionally and believes in him with all his heart and that is the only proof he needs. This finally breaks the barrier of unbelief between Hobbes and the rest of the world, and he manages to open the window, climb down the roof, and catch Bill as he comes home from work. Unfortunately, the only thing Bill can do in the presence of a full-grown talking tiger is scream like a baby and run away. But when Susie hears the commotion next door and realizes what is going on – both that Hobbes is real and that Calvin is in trouble – she keeps her wits about her and (despite her parents' horrified objections) offers Hobbes the use of her cell phone.

Since the police chief is convinced that "Hobbes" is just Calvin pulling a prank, Hobbes decides he must track Moe down himself. Sure enough, in a matter of seconds, he picks out Moe's trail and follows it to the school playground, where Moe has Calvin bound and gagged and is preparing to do something unspeakably horrible to him (given that Moe is – shockingly – only six years old, it probably wouldn't be anything sexual, but it would still be something very uncomfortable to think about). Taking full advantage of his reality, Hobbes charges Moe, pins him to the ground, and quickly reduces him to a bloody pulp with no feet, no hands, and no face to speak of (save for his ears, which are left perfectly intact). Having successfully neutralized all threats to life and limb, Hobbes unties Calvin and the two friends make their escape, leaving Moe – as Westley would say – "wallowing in freakish misery forever" (or, at least, until he bleeds out). Convinced that the police will never believe their story and that going back home will only get Susie and Melissa in trouble, they decide to run for their lives and let fate guide them to a safe haven.

The next morning, Moe's body is discovered, as well as damning evidence that he did in fact kidnap Calvin and try to kill him, so the police are forced to admit that Hobbes not only exists – if the signs of a tiger attack and Bill's panicked testimony weren't enough to prove that – but was telling the truth. Sadly, this revelation does nothing to fix the situation, but only makes things worse: For starters, Bill's pride is so horribly wounded from having to admit that he was wrong about Hobbes (and Calvin, for that matter) that he walks out on Melissa for good, setting the scene for an ugly divorce. Calvin's former classmates – though they wouldn't dare say so to his face with Hobbes around – collectively unperson him, declaring that his friendship with a talking tiger (real or imagined) only serves to make him a bigger freak than they thought. Susie tries valiantly to defend Calvin's honor, but her only reward is to go from being shunned by the other students to being outright bullied and vilified by them. Meanwhile, the police are having no luck finding Calvin or Hobbes, who seem to have vanished from the face of the Earth.

Things have hit rock bottom and appear to be stuck there, until about three weeks later, when Melissa receives a phone call from somewhere near the Big Water (I haven't decided which one yet, but it could either be the Atlantic or Pacific Oceans or one of the Great Lakes) – and who should be on the other end but Calvin himself! During the very emotional conversation that follows, Calvin explains why he and Hobbes didn't come home, apologizes profusely for having caused Melissa so much grief before and after recent events (for which he is profusely forgiven), and assures her that he and Hobbes are safe. After Melissa assures Calvin that they won't face any charges for Moe's death (the police have been forced to take full responsibility, since they were informed of the kidnapping but did nothing about it and it is obvious that Hobbes only killed Moe to save Calvin), he announces that the wonderful couple who took them in will bring them home the next day.

Sure enough, the following afternoon, Calvin and Hobbes arrive safely in town and are finally reunited with Melissa, with hugs and kisses and joyful tears all around. The boys then introduce her to their recent benefactors: None other than Gromit and Fluffles Park.

ACT TWO

After spending a week on the lam – meticulously covering their tracks, scrounging for food and water as best they can, sleeping only intermittently, and hoping against hope that they can find a place where people won't treat them like dirt – Calvin and Hobbes collapse from exhaustion, malnutrition, dehydration, and exposure to the elements on the shore of the Big Water, just on the outskirts of a weird-but-wonderful city called Christus Rex. They wake up in the hospital three days later, being looked after by the Parks, who discovered them unconscious while taking a midnight stroll on the beach.

In the universe of this story, Fluffles (real name Fleur) was born in Paris and left as a foundling on the doorstep of Sacré-Coeur de Montmartre. Raised by the Benedictine nuns, she grew up to be a devout Catholic, but found herself deeply disturbed by the Church's internal upheavals during and after the Second Vatican Council – and even more so by the liturgical reforms under Pope Paul VI. After about six months of giving the Pauline Rite in French her best shot, the sensation of dying by slow poison became too much for Fleur and she decided it was time to get creative. She spent the next several years making secret Sunday trips to one of two parishes: Saint-Louis du Port-Marly (whose pastor had refused to accept the Pauline Rite) and Saint-Nicholas-du-Chardonnet in Paris (which was – quite literally – taken over by the Society of St. Pius X in 1977). A great many ups and downs notwithstanding – including the parishioners of Saint-Louis being chased out of their church by the police and then taking it back by force a week later in 1987 – her devotion to the old Roman Rite remained as strong as ever, until Archbishop Lefebvre of the S.S.P.X. illicitly consecrated four of his priests as bishops in 1988, thus incurring excommunication for himself and the consecrands and casting the shadow of schism over the Traditional Movement. Realizing that she was playing with fire, Fleur pulled back from the Roman Rite and sequestered herself in the small Melkite Greek-Catholic parish of Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre, taking much-needed solace in the Byzantine Rite while praying fervently for the success of the International Una Voce Federation (the first group dedicated to preserving the Roman Rite within the ordinary structures of the Church), even though the odds were heavily against them. That was how things stood when she first met Piella Bakewell.

Piella, whose career as the Bake-O-Lite girl was just reaching its peak (and, sadly, beginning to wear on her psyche), was absolutely enchanted with Fleur – who she took to calling "Fluffles" because of her delightfully soft and fluffy hair – and asked if she wanted to come back to England with her as a service dog. (This seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Fluffles, who had long since finished her double doctorate in Psychology and Philosophy and was hoping to start her own practice.) Everything went swimmingly for the first few years, until Piella's stress levels got the best of her and – despite Fluffles' best efforts to steer her towards a healthier means of coping – she turned to baked goods for comfort, eventually gaining too much weight to ride the Bake-O-Lite balloon and being dropped as their mascot. Fluffles did everything she could to get Piella back on her feet, but she ultimately couldn't stop the latter's descent into madness. When Piella decided to embark on what became known as the Baker's Dozen Killings, she tricked Fluffles into acting as a lure for the unfortunate pastry chefs who would become her victims (and beat her into submission after she objected to the first killing). Between the shock of Piella's betrayal, the terror of being privy to twelve grisly murders, the pain of being repeatedly mentally and physically abused in between, and the guilt and self-loathing that came from not being able to stop the bloodshed or save her mistress from herself – as well as a creeping sensation that God was punishing her – those terrible few years very nearly destroyed all traces of faith and hope in Fluffles and soon drove her to the brink of suicidal despair. Thankfully, when Piella decided that a certain Wallace Park would be a suitable candidate for the thirteenth killing, she didn't count on the interference of his faithful canine companion, Gromit.

Gromit (real name George) was born in London and – being an orphan like Fluffles – spent his puppyhood at the Foundling Hospital until he was evacuated during the Battle for Britain. Adopted by the Park family in Lancashire, he received his nickname when their elder son, Wallace, discovered his natural talent as an engineer. Unlike Fluffles, Gromit had a decidedly irreligious upbringing and spent most of his formative years as a secular humanist (or at least the canine equivalent thereof). Despite this, he always had a great love for fairy tales, and was lucky enough to grow up during the time that both The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings were first published. By the time he was out of sixth form, he had not only read all of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis' published fiction but was now plowing through Lewis' apologetical works. By the time he began his undergraduate studies at Oxford, he was reading the Bible cover-to-cover with an open mind. At the end of his first term, his spiritual awakening now complete, he informed the rector of St. Mary the Virgin that he wished to join the Church of England. The following January – after some back-and-forth among the chaplains as to whether he truly possessed a rational soul – Gromit was finally baptized. Though he started out as a moderate "Broad Church" Anglican, after he decided to study Theology as well as Engineering and committed himself to reading every historic Christian text he could find in the Bodleian Library, he gradually became more of a conservative "High Church" Anglican. By the time he finished his own double doctorate – having by then discovered the works of John Henry Newman and the Oxford Movement – he was a full-blown Anglo-Catholic.

Given that Catholicizing the Church of England was now part of his life's work, Vatican II and its aftermath couldn't help but catch Gromit's attention – especially after he was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in the Grenadier Guards (he had been drafted during the Border Campaign but ultimately placed on reserve) and spent several tours of duty in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, which gave him an up-close and personal look at how badly their Catholic culture had been wounded by so many fundamental changes happening all at once. But what caught his attention even more was the reaction to the Council's aftermath, especially the 1971 Statement by Scholars, Intellectuals, and Artists Living in England. When the so-called "Agatha Christie Indult" was granted as a result, he decided it would be a smart move – given his own increasingly "traditionalist" stance regarding Anglicanism – to keep track of the Traditional Movement and listen to what they had to say.

During this time, he continued his study of Newman's work and also began delving into the works of G.K. Chesterton, eventually coming to the same conclusion they did – that the Church of England was a house built on sand – though he didn't find the courage to make the final jump from Anglo-Catholic to Roman Catholic until after the C-of-E approved the ordination of women in 1994. Though he had originally considered seeking out the S.S.P.X., after the illicit consecrations of 1988, he began seeing too many similarities with the breakaway Anglican Congress of St. Louis and decided it was a safer bet – despite all the headaches one would have in dealing with uncooperative bishops and pastors – to stick "close to Rome." Once his mind was made up, he contacted the Latin Mass Society of England and Wales and asked if they could recommend a solid traditional priest to instruct him. They promptly introduced him to one of their workshop leaders – a character we shall meet later in the story – who happened to be assigned to the indult parish in Liverpool and was very glad to take him on. On the anniversary of his Baptism – the Octave of the Epiphany or Feast of Our Lord's Baptism (January 13) – Gromit made his Profession of Faith, received the Sacrament of Confirmation, and made his first Holy Communion.

[Nota bene: Not only have the Parks not aged since the first Wallace and Gromit short premiered – a rule which applies to all the characters in this piece and their respective franchises – but back when they were aging, they did so in human years instead of dog years, thus allowing them to lead such full and varied lives.]

As Gromit and Fluffles got to know each other during and after Wallace and Piella's ill-fated tryst, his countless day-to-day acts of kindness slowly but surely chipped away at the layers of grime around her soul, until there was plenty of room for the seeds of faith and hope to blossom once more. The coup de grace came when Gromit was heading off to Mass one Sunday and asked if Fluffles wanted to join him. Having not been able to attend Mass in any rite for several years due to Piella's machinations, Fluffles would gladly have accompanied Gromit to whatever liturgy he chose (even the dreaded Pauline Rite in English). But when she realized they were going to a traditional Roman Rite Mass and that Gromit was an active friend of the Traditional Movement (a cause she was certain no convert to Catholicism would ever embrace due to its association with the S.S.P.X.), Fluffles didn't just come to Mass with him – she wept tears of joy on the way there, stayed afterwards to make a general Confession to the priest, and thenceforward threw herself back into the practice of her Faith as if she had never left off (indeed, even more so than before because, now, it was something she and Gromit could share). After a year of courting, Gromit popped the question; six months later, they celebrated their wedding with a Solemn High Nuptial Mass specially arranged by the Latin Mass Society.

Unfortunately, despite the Parks' best efforts to enjoy married life under his roof, Wallace remained as oblivious to their needs as ever and kept involving them in his various harebrained schemes (all of which backfired, as usual), resulting in the worst kind of situation a dog can face: A constant battle between instinctive loyalty to one's master and increasing resentment toward that same master. On top of that, the couple's shared interest in Catholic Social Teaching gave them an increasing sense of unease with the (relative) safety and comfort of their current life and a nagging desire to seek the Kingdom of God with as little compromise as possible. Then Gromit's spiritual director introduced them to the works of Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin – the founders of the Catholic Worker Movement and spiritual heirs of the English Distributists – and everything fell into place. After an especially ill-conceived and exasperating fiasco with Wallace, the Parks finally reached their breaking point and decided it was time to move across the pond. Once they had found a suitable home in the States – in the vicinity of the Big Water, as it happened – they went back to their educational roots and started their own businesses. They eventually raised enough funds to provide the endowment for the House of Hospitality and the Agronomic University (referred to by the locals as "the House" and "the Farm") – not one, but two Catholic Worker outfits, which radically transformed the surrounding area and essentially brought the city of Christus Rex into being.

Four days later, Calvin and Hobbes are well enough to be released from the hospital and the Parks invite them to stay another week at their house. Soon enough – somehow knowing that they can trust the Parks implicitly – the boys reveal why they were running away and why they feel compelled to stay away. But after some gentle coaxing, they agree to at least call Melissa to let her know they're still alive and ascertain if their situation is really as dire as they think. Thankfully, they discover that it is safe to come home and promptly do so. Once the introductions have been made, the Parks surprise everyone with all the essentials for an impromptu homecoming party. As the Parks are setting things up, Calvin goes to find Susie and apologize for his disappearance – for which she first bawls him out because she didn't know if he was dead or alive, then breaks down crying and hugs him (the first time he was ever hugged by a girl) because she missed him so much – after which he invites her over to meet the Parks and join the festivities. The party lasts well into the evening and gives everyone a much-needed chance to enjoy themselves.

In conversation with Melissa – who feels instantly at home with them – the Parks reveal that one of the functions of the House and the Farm is to play host to a year-round, K-12, classical Catholic homeschool academy that specializes in helping students like Calvin who've been rejected by society and abandoned by the educational system, as well as creatures like Hobbes who have nowhere else to turn to. Calvin is initially terrified at the prospect of going to school year-round (especially a classical Catholic school, with so many additional rules and such radically different curricula) and demands a second opinion from Bill, who he assumed was just staying late at the office again. At this point, Melissa dejectedly informs Calvin that his father has abandoned them. Despite the resentment that had grown between them and despite Melissa's repeated assurances that neither he nor Hobbes are at fault for Bill's cowardly exit, Calvin still takes the news as badly as any child whose parents are splitting up. But after spending three days inconsolable in his room, he finally reaches a moment of clarity and sees that the time has come to take responsibility for himself and start putting other people first – especially Melissa, who must now shoulder the burden of raising him twice-over. Therefore, if only to make her proud, he vows to give the academy his best shot if she chooses to enroll him. Since, at this point, there is no way that Calvin's old school will ever take him back (or accept Hobbes) and Melissa has no reason to stay in the old town, the decision is made to leave their old lives behind and start over in Christus Rex.

The only sticking point for Calvin is how to say goodbye to Susie. Repulsed by the thought of abandoning her after she sacrificed what little social standing she had to be his friend, he at first tries to think of a way she could come along (with no success), then tells her bluntly (and without really thinking it through) that he won't leave if she doesn't want him to. Though it secretly devastates her to see him go again, this time most likely for good, Susie assures Calvin that she wants him to live his best life and have every chance at success, even if it means they have to part ways. Since the academy's next enrollment cycle is only three weeks away, Calvin, Hobbes, and Susie make the absolute most of their time together – taking wagon rides, going on adventures in cardboard boxes, engaging in water balloon battles, playing endless games of Calvinball, etc. When the day of departure finally dawns, Calvin and Susie promise to write to each other as often as possible – and Calvin surprises everyone by hugging Susie back (the first time he ever hugged a girl).

Once Melissa and the boys have arrived in Christus Rex, the Parks arrange for them to stay indefinitely at the House – and even agree to waive Calvin and Hobbes' tuition fees – in exchange for daily volunteer work. Despite his initial misgivings, Calvin finds that he not only fits in at the academy but gets along famously with the other children his age. Since Hobbes is closer to high school age (I picture him being physically 15 years old and aging in human years like the Parks – if he ages at all, which has yet to be determined), once he passes the entrance exams, he jumps up to his proper level and begins making his own friends for the first time. Having an active social life takes a lot of adjusting for both of them, but once they strike a balance between consciously being available for each other and opening the rest of their time up to new friendships (to say nothing of eventual romances), their relationship grows stronger than ever before. As icing on the cake, Fluffles offers counseling to the entire Watterson family, who find incredible solace in being able to unburden themselves to a therapist who truly understands them.

Back in the old town, Susie isn't having it nearly so easy: Though her pen pal friendship with Calvin is enough to keep her afloat, she still endures a great deal of verbal and physical hazing from the other students (which the school is now unable to stop, having failed to hire a new principal or an effective replacement for Miss Wormwood), her grades have been slipping, and her relationship with her parents is quickly turning sour. The one bright spot comes when her mother, in an effort to keep the peace, buys her an antique Raggedy Ann doll. When Susie laments that no material thing can ever fill the emptiness of losing a good friend, possibly for the rest of her life, the Raggedy Ann doll suddenly reveals herself to be ensouled just like Hobbes and tells Susie that she is absolutely right.

After she recovers from the initial scare and convinces her equally frightened parents not to do anything stupid, Susie tells Raggedy Ann about her experiences with Calvin and Hobbes, including how Hobbes finally proved his reality when Calvin was in danger. In response, Raggedy Ann – "Annie" to her friends and loved ones – reveals that she and her twin brother, Raggedy Andy, also defied unbelief through the power of unconditional love when their previous owner, Marcella Gruelle, became deathly ill and was in desperate need of comfort. Unfortunately, her parents were horrified by the presence of living ragdolls in their home and, as soon as Marcella died, the Gruelles sent Annie and Andy away post-haste. Despite his natural pluck and can-do attitude, the ravages of poverty, heartbreak, and exposure to the elements quickly reduced Andy to a shell of his former self – in the end (at least, to all appearances), he committed suicide by throwing himself in the trash. From that point on, Annie became convinced that revealing her true nature would only cause pain and misery for those she loved, so she resolved to conceal herself once more and give whatever comfort she could to any poor soul who had use for an ordinary ragdoll. But after decades of not being able to help the ones who needed her most, Annie's resolve to stay hidden crumbled – the final straw came when she saw how miserable Susie was without her friends.

Susie is overjoyed to have an unusual big sister-figure of her own, but just like Calvin's predicament with Hobbes, it only makes her more of an outcast. One day, after she brings Annie for show-and-tell and nearly causes a riot among the students (resulting in Annie being forced to spend the rest of the school-day outside), Susie finally reaches her breaking point and decides that trying to learn anything from public school just isn't worth the effort. She takes revenge on the entire student body by pulling one of Calvin's old pranks – possibly the one that led to the mysterious Noodle Incident – and gets herself expelled. After several intense arguments with her folks, she finally convinces them to pay a visit to Christus Rex and see if she and Annie might be accepted by the homeschool academy.

Though the Parks admonish Susie for deliberately getting herself expelled just to attend their academy – which could easily give rise to a great deal of needless controversy – they admire her intelligence and her fighting spirit. Once Annie vouches for Susie's otherwise excellent behavior but promises to keep an eye on her just in case, the Parks agree to take them both on. When Susie's parents complain about the cost of either driving the girls to Christus Rex and back every week (or flying them out depending on how far away it is) or else putting them up in a hotel – the idea of letting their daughter stay at the House being out of the question – the Parks arrange for the girls to stay with them during the school year (the academy follows the Roman Catholic General Calendar of 1954, so the students get frequent days off and occasional eight-day breaks during which they could go home). When the Derkins' complain about the expense of paying two separate tuition fees, the Parks reveal that they've just recently adopted a policy of letting sentient toys enroll free of charge. Once everything is settled, Susie finds her footing in the academy lightning-fast and picks up right where she left off with Calvin and Hobbes. The boys immediately accept Annie as a fellow misfit and, soon enough, she and the others form an inseparable quartet. Given the many similar traumas in their pasts, Hobbes and Annie form an especially close bond.

Everything goes smoothly until the time comes for Bill and Melissa's divorce proceedings to begin. Since she knows it'll be a long and vicious uphill battle and she doesn't want Calvin getting dragged into it any more than he must be, Melissa reaches out to the Catholic Workers for someone to look after the boys full-time while she is back in the old town slugging it out with Bill. To everyone's surprise, a new character steps forward and offers to help: A crusty, hard-bitten, but kindhearted gentleman by the name of Archibald Haddock.

In this universe, Archibald is the last survivor of an old Scottish Jacobite family who fell away from the Faith after his father died and ran away from home to join the Royal Navy. He quickly rose to the rank of Captain and received the Victoria Cross for his service in the First World War, after which he took on various mercantile jobs to supplement his military stipend. Archibald's reputation for occasional heavy drinking was already well-established by the time he graduated from Dartmouth, but the uniquely horrible P.T.S.D. he carried from the Great War soon pushed him over the edge into full-blown alcoholism. With the help of his best friend, Tintin, he was able to sober up in time for the Second World War and served bravely enough to win a second Victoria Cross (an exceedingly rare privilege), but afterwards frequently lapsed into his old habits until his other best friend, Professor Calculus, snuck him a batch of pills that made alcohol taste terrible. Decades later, Tintin and Calculus were both killed in the course of an especially dangerous adventure and Archibald, having barely escaped with his own life, nearly drank himself to death out of survivor's guilt. While he drank enough to undo the effects of the anti-alcohol pills – no mean feat in itself – he stopped short of suicide after a sudden moment of clarity and decided it was better to go on living in honor of his friends. To that end, he sold his ancestral property in Scotland and moved to America to get his life back in order, eventually finding his way to the House and being taken in by the Parks (who not only got him back on his feet, but also restored his childhood faith).

If you know anything about Archibald's previous experience with difficult children – especially the spoiled brat Abdullah – you might think this is a recipe for disaster. But you would be wrong! Instead, Archibald ends up seeing a great deal of his younger self in Calvin and Calvin ends up finding in him the strong-but-gentle father-figure he desperately needed. Hobbes is initially happy for Calvin, but slowly becomes concerned that his young friend may not need him anymore with someone like Archibald in his life. His worries are somewhat assuaged by Archibald consistently noticing and appreciating his attempts to act as Calvin's conscience (which reminds Archibald very much of Tintin), but nagging doubt remains at the back of his mind. Still, he vows to put Calvin's health and happiness first and accept whatever consequences this might have for their relationship.

After six months, the Wattersons' divorce is mostly finalized, but the battle over who gets Calvin is gridlocked because both parties are demanding sole custody. It seems that Bill is gaining the upper hand – having nearly convinced the judge that Calvin's mental health problems were really Melissa's fault, and her desire to keep him and Hobbes together is a public health hazard – until Calvin and Hobbes finally get their day in court and are asked to give their side of the story. Hobbes goes first, gives an impassioned testimony on Melissa's behalf, and concludes by forgiving everyone for their unbelief, just as he had to forgive himself when he didn't feel worthy of life. Though Calvin had initially planned to burn his last bridge by denouncing Bill from the witness stand, he is inspired by Hobbes' testimony to take the high road instead: He forgives his father for not acting like a father or wanting to be one and asks if they can still have a relationship, even if it'll never be the same. Unfortunately, when the boys' testimonies convince the judge to grant Melissa sole custody, Bill responds by disowning Calvin forever.

ACT THREE

Once Melissa recovers enough from the ordeal to forgive Bill for his idiocy and move on with her life, she starts getting to know Archibald better. Besides being extremely grateful to him for watching Calvin and Hobbes and providing them with a good male role model, she finds him – despite his hot temper, sailor's mouth, and (thankfully, now-moderated) drinking and smoking habits – to be a noble and chivalrous man and she eventually asks if he would like to go out with her. He admits that he would very much like to, but also reveals with great sadness that he can't go out with a divorced woman in good conscience unless her previous marriage is declared null by the Church.

Although she isn't Catholic (I picture her being something very liberal, like a Unitarian Universalist), Melissa is aware that most Catholics treat decrees of nullity as if they were just "church divorces" or means of obtaining church weddings for new paramours – and she also knows that Bill would absolutely not cooperate with her in obtaining one. But because she doesn't want to force Archibald into a scenario that would violate his conscience, she resigns herself to just being friends with him. Archibald completely understands her frustration and is equally disgusted with how decrees of nullity are usually handled but encourages her to have a chat with the ordinary of the Catholic Worker apostolate anyway – to achieve final closure on her relationship with Bill if nothing else. With this in mind, Melissa does finally call on the ordinary – the ingenious Father Brown (now His Grace the Most Reverend Monsignor John Brown) – and his coadjutor – the indomitable Don Camillo (now His Excellency the Most Reverend Monsignor Camillo Tarocci).

In this universe, Father Brown was at one time a missionary priest of the Society of Jesus (a.k.a. Jesuits) but found himself progressively marginalized by both the Society and the hierarchy, starting in 1955. In both March and October of that year, he caused a massive disturbance by publicly beseeching Pope Pius XII not to go forward with his intended liturgical reforms (the first a general stripping-down of the Roman Missal, the second a complete butchering of the ancient rites of Holy Week and Pentecost). The first time, his only punishment was an extra silent retreat; the second time, he was stripped of his missionary duties and reduced to holding various "lame duck" chaplaincies. By mutual consent, he renounced his profession with the Jesuits in 1965 – a massive relief for the new leadership, who found him by turns too orthodox, too pastoral, and too good a private detective for their liking – and tried to incardinate with the Diocese of Westminster. However, when he saw the experimental liturgies drawn up by Fr. Bugnini's Consilium and declared that he could never use them in good conscience, he was suspended a divinis (i.e., stripped of all his priestly faculties) by direct order of the Holy See. But instead of joining up with the S.S.P.X. or going "independent," as other traditional priests had done, Father Brown willingly bore the cross of his unjust suspension and devoted himself to prayer and penance for the conversion of his persecutors and the success of the Traditional Movement. He was eventually rewarded for his faithfulness in 1988, when his faculties were restored by the Vatican at the request of the Latin Mass Society, who took advantage of the Ecclesia Dei indult to hire him as a workshop leader.

He gave Gromit instruction when the latter was converting to Catholicism and stayed on as his spiritual director, eventually inspiring him and Fluffles to establish the House of Hospitality. When Gromit lamented that Peter Maurin's original vision for the Catholic Worker Movement could never be fulfilled without the oversight of a sympathetic bishop, Father Brown went to Rome to request that the House and its permanent volunteers be granted personal ordinariate status. Since the Vatican desperately wanted to keep Father Brown from discovering more than he already knew about the extent of corruption and depravity within their ranks, they selected him to be the new ordinary – to which he reluctantly agreed after Gromit confided that he had been hoping for just this outcome. Once he was safely consecrated (using the pre-Vatican II Roman Pontifical, as per his conditions), the Vatican steadfastly ignored his movements, but also took pains to approve any requests he made as quickly as possible – anything to keep him and his friends from coming back and snooping around. Realizing the unique potential of his situation, he took full advantage of Rome's calculated negligence and turned the House into an under-the-radar powerhouse of sanctifying grace the likes of which hasn't been seen since the founding of Monte Cassino.

When the House proved to be a roaring success and the Workers decided to start the Agronomic University as a secondary campus, now-Monsignor Brown requested that Rome send him a coadjutor to oversee the Farm while he looked after the House – preferably one who had small-town rural experience. Sure enough, Rome had just the man for him: Don Camillo, the parish priest of Brescello, who was constantly making things difficult for his bishop by feuding with the local Communist Party. He was finally kicked upstairs to Rome as a monsignor (Right Reverend, not Most Reverend), until he gave all the most powerful people in Rome such a headache that they sent him back to Brescello for good – with a hippy-dippy "assistant priest," Don Chichì, dogging his every move to make sure he did right by the Spirit of Vatican II. While he was always deferential and obedient to the hierarchy in public – even to the point of celebrating the Pauline Rite Mass in Italian and versus populum – Don Camillo gradually developed a small cottage industry of offering clandestine Roman Rite Masses for paying customers (albeit the reformed Roman Rite, including all the changes wrought by Pius XII and John XXIII) and otherwise finding ways to subtly undermine Don Chichì without ever opposing him directly.

This went on for several decades, until the day he was informed of his impending transfer to America. Devastated at the prospect of leaving Brescello again – this time, quite possibly forever – and furious at being forced to shoulder a massive project in a country whose language he had always struggled with, he initially refused the assignment, even under threat of excommunication. Thankfully, after Gromit (who speaks fluent Italian) came to visit Don Camillo and did his best to explain the mission of the Catholic Workers – and why they wanted someone like him to be part of the project – he began to reconsider. Later that week, when Gromit arranged a friendly meeting with Monsignor Brown, Don Camillo found himself deeply moved (and shamed) by the latter's testimony and was thrown into a crisis of conscience. It was at this moment that Jesus spoke to him for the first time in decades and told him bluntly that taking the assignment was his last chance to save his priesthood (and his soul). After upbraiding him for squandering so many opportunities for grace, Jesus revealed that He was sending Don Camillo to the Catholic Workers, not merely as punishment for his duplicity, but to put a stop to it – after all, the Workers were looking for another bishop to exclusively celebrate the unreformed Roman Rite. Now thoroughly humbled, Don Camillo accepted the assignment – on the condition that Monsignor Brown consecrate him personally – and proved to be a perfect fit for the community.

The bishops prove to be firm but compassionate shepherds, listening attentively to Melissa's concerns, answering her questions as best they can, and finally convincing her to put her case before the marriage tribunal. Monsignor Brown assures her that he personally will oversee it and that, if Bill won't respond to their request for his side of the story within three months' time, his silence will be taken as consent. Melissa makes her case and, remarkably, the decree of nullity is granted in just over six months. As it turns out – even according to the much more stringent canons of the 1917 Code of Canon Law – her marriage with Bill had three major impediments:

1) They had been having relations and even living together for some years before they were married (they first met in high school, started dating in college, and Melissa moved in with Bill between his second and third years of law school);

2) They had always considered no-fault divorce to be an option (even though their actual divorce was anything but no-fault); and

3) While Melissa was open to the prospect, Bill emphatically didn't want to have children (Calvin's conception was the result of a contraceptive malfunction – and whether said malfunction was spontaneous or engineered was never quite clear).

With all impediments out of the way, she and Archibald finally start keeping company and soon become the talk of the town (much to Hobbes' delight – and even Calvin's, to his own surprise).

Much like the Parks, the bishops take a personal interest in the Watterson family – partly because they want to ensure that Archibald (a close mutual friend of theirs) can marry Melissa without running afoul of Canon Law – and begin gently nudging them toward the Church. After a series of deep conversations about the mysteries of life and the times when God gave them grace to overcome their trials – especially the recent courtroom drama and the insane amount of stress Calvin and Hobbes have had to endure – the seeds of faith begin to blossom and, by the Last Sunday After Pentecost, all three Wattersons have felt the call to swim the Tiber. Annie feels the same call after witnessing countless examples of unconditional love from the permanent volunteers and their families and realizing how much of it rests on their shared faith. The bishops split the truth-seekers' instruction between them (since Archibald volunteers at the House from August 1 to February 1 and the Farm from February 2 to July 31), while the Parks (who follow the same schedule) happily agree to be their godparents and Archibald does the same for Annie. It turns out that Susie was raised a mainline Catholic and was still practicing when she left home but, having seen how much deeper and more satisfying traditional Catholicism can be, she decides to re-catechize herself by auditing the instruction lessons.

Before Mass on the Feast of the Epiphany, Archibald takes Calvin and Hobbes aside for a man-to-man talk. He tells them that he would very much like to be a part of their family and asks if they would object to him proposing to Melissa. Calvin says he has no objection whatsoever, on two conditions: That he be officially adopted as Archibald's son and that Hobbes be adopted along with him. Hobbes – who was preparing for the moment he would have to withdraw from Calvin's life and thought for sure this was it – is initially at a loss for words, but Archibald reveals that he has already discussed the possibility with Melissa and that she (and he) would love it if Hobbes officially became part of the family. Once Calvin assures him that this is what he really wants (after all, who else would drop everything at a moment's notice for a game of Calvinball?), Hobbes ecstatically consents to both the adoption and the proposal.

Having received the boys' blessing, Archibald finally pops the question to Melissa after Mass the following Sunday (the Feast of the Holy Family) and receives an enthusiastic yes. Since Lent is fast approaching and they won't be able to solemnize their marriage until after Easter – and because they need to attend additional marriage prep classes that won't start until after the Wattersons are fully instructed – they ask Monsignor Brown if he would do the honors when they switch back to volunteering at the House the following August, to which he readily agrees. In the meantime, they ask him for a blessing on their engagement ring, which he is only too happy to give. Since Gromit is Archibald's boon companion and Fluffles is like the doting big sister Melissa never had, no one is surprised when the happy couple invite them to be the best man and maid of honor respectively (an invitation they immediately accept).

When the Easter Vigil finally arrives, Annie and the Wattersons receive the Sacraments of Baptism and Confirmation – courtesy of Monsignor Tarocci – and make their first Holy Communion. Because Susie learned alongside them and has proven her readiness beyond any doubt, she is allowed to receive Confirmation as well, with Archibald doubling as her sponsor.

On the Saturday after Lammas Day (the Feast of St. Peter in Chains), Archibald and Melissa are scheduled to be married, but Archibald wakes up with a terrible case of cold feet – not because of any doubts about Melissa, but because he struggles mightily with depression and self-loathing, which often rear their ugly heads just when he starts feeling good about himself. Among countless other imaginary and/or exaggerated defects, he focuses on the fact that he doesn't have proper morning dress for the wedding and has to wear his (very old-fashioned) Royal Navy uniform instead, very nearly convincing himself that he is completely unworthy of Melissa and never should've gotten close to her in the first place – despite the fact that he normally doesn't care beans about proper dress and Melissa actually likes his old uniform. But when Calvin calls Archibald to relay Melissa's undying love – it being bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding, but not to exchange messages – as well as his own joy at having a father again and Hobbes' joy at having a real family for the first time, his doubts quickly begin to fade. They disappear completely when Gromit arrives to escort him and reveals that he is wearing his old Grenadier Guards uniform, complete with bearskin (Gromit is always impeccably dressed and usually wears a morning coat for special occasions – or a frock coat for extra-special occasions – but would never outdress his best friend at his own wedding).

From there, the wedding goes off without a hitch (no pun intended), capped off with a Solemn Pontifical Nuptial Mass courtesy of Monsignor Brown. Upon returning from their honeymoon, Archibald and Melissa officially adopt Calvin and Hobbes as members of the House of Haddock.

There is only one loose thread left to tie up: During this time, Susie's relationship with her parents still hasn't been going very well. Besides some lasting resentment for how she got herself expelled from her old school and – for all intents and purposes – emancipated herself to live with a new family, her "tradversion" away from the mainline Catholic upbringing they gave her has left the Derkins' with an even deeper sense of betrayal. For a time, they barely speak to each other and even stop asking her to come home for the holidays. But when she invites them to stay over the Easter Triduum at Annie's urging, and they see how happy and healthy she is in Christus Rex, they decide to let bygones be bygones and reconcile with their daughter. Not only that, but they finally acknowledge Annie, Calvin, and Hobbes as good, dependable friends and properly thank them for helping Susie enjoy life again.

Though she can't help feeling a slight pang of loss at leaving the Parks (whom she has unconsciously grown to love like a second family) for the holidays, Susie happily comes home for the Octave of Easter and spends a very pleasant week catching up with her parents. They also formally invite Annie to come along for the first time – having begrudgingly allowed Susie to bring her along on previous occasions – and do everything they can to make her feel like part of the family. The lines of communication are opened once more – and, when the Derkins' make their next weekend trip to attend the Haddocks' wedding, Susie convinces her parents to consider moving closer to the academy. It takes a few months, but by Midsummer's Day (the Nativity of St. John the Baptist), they've negotiated the possibility of working remotely until they can find new jobs in town. By the First Sunday of Advent, they've even put a downpayment on a new house and are ready to move in the following January – but as so often happens when things are at their zenith, that is when tragedy decides to intervene.

On Christmas Eve, the Derkins' are driving back to Christus Rex to attend Midnight Mass and spend Christmastide with the Parks before the official move-in, when their journey is waylaid by a massive blizzard that blows up out of nowhere. The Derkins' attempt to keep driving through the storm – being too far from any rest stops to safely pull over and hunker down – but their car skids on a patch of black ice and goes tumbling end-over-end into a ditch. (In a further away scenario, they would be flying out as usual, with their plane running smack into the blizzard, being unable to turn around or make an emergency landing, and eventually crashing.) Mr. and Mrs. Derkins are killed on impact, but Annie and Susie – who've spent the last week helping to pack up the old house – miraculously survive with only cuts and bruises. Everyone is mildly concerned when they don't show up for Midnight Mass, especially when they won't answer their phones, but they figure it is only a temporary delay because of the weather and everything will be all right in the morning. Sadly, upon returning home, the Parks find a message on their phone from the hospital explaining what happened. After the funeral, the family executor reveals that Susie has no designated guardian and will become a ward of the state if nobody steps in. The Parks immediately volunteer, challenging any C.P.S. bureaucrat to suggest otherwise (thankfully, everyone knows better than that).

With help from all her friends – but especially from Annie and Fluffles – Susie successfully goes through the five stages of grieving, overcomes her survivor's guilt, and learns to face life on her own over the following six months. But as it turns out, she won't have to. Just before lighting the bonfire on Midsummer's Eve, the Parks tell Susie that, while they could never replace her original parents, they've grown to love her like their own daughter and would like to make her a permanent member of the family, if she'll have them. Susie, though at peace with her loss and ready for a fresh start, hesitates at first because she doesn't want to leave Annie behind. When Annie reveals that she was the one who suggested adoption in the first place and the Parks would like to make them both part of the family – and, for her part, she wouldn't want anyone else to be her little sister – Susie joyfully accepts. By the following Michaelmas, Annie and Susie are officially adopted by the Parks; all is right with the world once more.

That same day, while everyone is gathered at the Parks' house for Annie and Susie's welcome-to-the-family party, Hobbes and Annie go into the garden to have a private conversation. Hobbes confesses that he loves her and (having already received Gromit's blessing to do so) he wishes to officially court her. Annie confesses that she loves him, too, but also that she has never had a boyfriend before and might not be cut out for romantic love. When she heartbrokenly suggests that Hobbes find a girl with more relationship experience (if at all possible, given the paucity of sentient toys), he reveals that – despite being a hopeless romantic by nature – he has never once had a girlfriend and couldn't think of anyone more wonderful to be his first love (if she'll have him). Not wanting to let such a beautiful opportunity go to waste, Annie agrees to give it the old college try, though she admits to worrying that she might lose him just like she lost Andy. Hobbes gives her his solemn promise that, if fate should pull them apart, it won't be by his choice – and they seal the deal with a long-anticipated kiss.

Calvin and Susie are watching them from inside the house and can't help but laugh at how schmaltzy it all is. However, after thinking it over for a minute, the kids finally admit that they, too, have been harboring more-than-friendly feelings for each other for some time. After wondering aloud what to do with those feelings, they both agree that mushy stuff like Hobbes and Annie are into is off the table for at least another eight years. Still, after much consideration, they decide to allow for a declaration of love and a peck on the cheek – at least on special occasions (like being adopted into a wonderful new family, for example). Thus ends the big fat Catholic crossover fanfiction.

ALTERNATE TAKES – PART I

There are a few different directions I could see the Catholic crossover fanfiction going. One is having Hobbes be an incarnate pooka (a benign but mischievous Celtic spirit that always appears in the form of a large animal) as opposed to an ensouled toy, having first appeared in his spirit form to a lonely, outcast boy in the British Raj and gained his physical form as a result of the sheer power of Calvin's imagination. The result is that everyone can see him as a stuffed tiger, but only those on the fringes of society – as Harvey put it, "rum-pots, crackpots, and how are you, Mr. Wilson" – can catch a glimpse of his true self. His barrier-breaking moment comes when he remembers that pookas have power over time, space, and any objections, and realizes that this not only includes the objections of all the unbelievers in the world, but especially his own objections (e.g., that he doesn't feel worthy of existence, that he feels inadequate to the task of helping Calvin enjoy life as a loner, etc.).

The only problem is, there aren't many female Celtic spirits to choose from in terms of popular fictional characters – at least, none who would make good partners for a teenage talking tiger – so that leaves Hobbes a bit out of luck in terms of finding a girlfriend. As painful as it is for me to have an unbalanced ratio of male to female characters, in this scenario, it would probably be best to finish out the quartet by replacing Annie with a boy.

That being the case, I would be most partial to Shaun the Sheep, since I could definitely see him looking up to Gromit as a father-figure after the events of A Close Shave and being adopted by the Parks either right after they marry or just before they move to the States. True, he also would have little-to-no luck of finding a girlfriend (there aren't very many female sheep characters either), but that could be a means of him and Hobbes forming a connection: Instead of moping about the lack of available "babes" (as Hobbes would say), they could channel their romantic energies toward deepening their shared love for Holy Mother Church – perhaps even exploring the possibility of priesthood or religious life – while also giving Calvin and Susie a nudge in the right direction as needed.

Though I'm loath to do so, since I really do like her as a character and I think she and Calvin have definite chemistry together, I can also imagine a scenario in which Susie Derkins – instead of appreciating that Calvin went berserk at Moe because he was concerned for her safety and extremely overwrought in general – becomes frightened of him and breaks off their budding friendship after he gets out of the mental hospital. If, under those circumstances, I wished to broaden Calvin's romantic horizons while keeping the quartet mostly male, I could see some great possibilities with Lilo and Stitch.

I think Calvin and Lilo are a perfect match, both being highly intelligent, deeply misunderstood (not to mention frequently bullied), showing plausible signs of Asperger syndrome (and possibly some other conditions, such as A.D.H.D. or bipolar disorder), and capable of incredible chaos and incredible awesomeness at the same time. Living in a traditionalist Catholic enclave (even one as broadminded as Christus Rex) might prove rather difficult for Stitch, but I think he could handle it, especially if he developed a friendship with Hobbes. That would probably work best if Hobbes were still an ensouled toy in this scenario – that way, they could form a connection as manufactured beings who broke free of their bonds (existential angst for Hobbes, genetic programming for Stitch) and decided to live life on their own terms. The only problem with this scenario, besides pushing Susie out of the picture, is that it requires Lilo being permanently separated from Nani through some horrible turn of fate in order for the Parks to adopt her. True, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, but I'm not sure I can bring myself to break that many.

Switching back to the idea of Hobbes being a pooka, while I can't think of any female Celtic spirits to pair with him, there is one such character – specifically, a Tuath Dé Dannan (shapeshifting, humanoid fairy spirit) – who might prove to be a good match for Calvin: Aisling from The Secret of Kells. I imagine her backstory going something like this:

After saving her best friend, Brother Brendan of Kells, from the clutches of the Northmen, Aisling followed him at a distance for the next few decades as he helped his mentor, Brother Aidan of Iona, complete the fabled Book of Kells and then journeyed across Ireland, using the Book – an illuminated copy of the Four Gospels – to "turn darkness into light" (i.e., bring souls to Christ). Toward the end of his life, Brother Brendan retired from missionary work and entrusted the Book to a worthy successor, spending his twilight years as a hermit in the woods near Kells. At this point, Aisling finally decided it was safe to have direct contact with him again – their last close encounter having nearly resulted in her death – and became his caretaker. As Brendan grew weaker, Aisling soon had to face the most painful part of being an immortal creature in a mortal world (for the second time in her life): No matter how many friends and loved ones she might find over the years, she would eventually outlive all of them and never see them again until the end of time (provided she herself didn't just blink out of existence on Judgment Day). However, in his final days, Brendan explained the concept of Baptism to Aisling – in which, to paraphrase Romans 6, we are buried with Christ and rise with Him to eternal life – and she realized that this might be the key to shedding her earthly immortality and gaining a share of heavenly immortality. Sadly, Brendan passed away before he could begin her catechesis and Aisling was still too wary of humans in general to approach any other Catholics for help.

She spent the next several centuries wandering aimlessly through the Irish wilderness, increasingly hemmed in by the encroaching progress of human civilization and despairing of ever finding a friend she wouldn't ultimately lose to the ravages of time, until the Great Potato Famine struck. At this point, Aisling decided she might as well try her luck in the New World and snuck in among the Irish immigrants heading for New York. After spending the next 150 years or so traversing the backwoods of the United States, she encountered another remarkable character who – with a little tweaking – might actually prove to be a good fit for Hobbes: Rita the Cat from Animaniacs.

Since I don't count the movie Wakko's Wish (at the end of which Rita and her best friend, Runt the Dog, find a home with Doctor Scratchansniff) as being part of the Animaniacs canon, the scenario I've come up with for how Rita would join the fold is as follows: By means of a freak accident, Rita ends up going through an experimental procedure – either something Doctor Scratchansniff was devising to help the Warner siblings achieve normalcy, or something Pinky and the Brain were concocting as a means of taking over the world – that causes her to become a larger, more anthropomorphic version of herself and also start aging in human years (despite being voiced by the very mature Bernadette Peters, I picture her being roughly 15 years old). While this gives her a major leg-up in terms of interacting with the wider world, it sadly destroys her relationship with Runt (who finally gets it through his head that Rita is a cat, not a dog) and makes her an outcast even among the ranks of the Animaniacs crew. With all her hopes of finding a home seemingly crushed forever, Rita bids a final, bitter farewell to Burbank and hides herself away in the woods, where Aisling stumbles upon her.

Though Rita was at first extremely suspicious of Aisling (cats being highly sensitive to the preternatural) and wanted nothing to do with anyone else's problems, she began to loosen up when Aisling revealed that she was the last of her kind and in desperate need of hearth and home. Though she had given up all hope of finding her own place in the world, Rita decided she might as well help someone else achieve theirs. After much wandering in the rough – during which they bonded over their shared love of music – the two girls came across the newly founded city of Christus Rex and were shortly thereafter taken in by the Parks (the first creatures to show concern for either Aisling or Rita in a very long time).

When Aisling told her story to the Parks – who she could tell were trustworthy as soon as she laid eyes on them – they quickly introduced her to Monsignor Brown, who offered to catechize and baptize her himself. Rita took much longer to trust the Parks (having been abandoned by her mother and abused, neglected, or otherwise disappointed by so many owners over the years), but eventually – after being given time and space to come out of her shell and voluntarily spend quality time with everybody – allowed herself to be vulnerable with them and realized just how desperately she wanted, not just a home to live in, but a family to belong to. She took even longer to consider becoming a Catholic (she had grown up in a heavily Italian Catholic neighborhood and longed for the sort of community a shared faith would bring but had always found religious humans to be especially unpleasant), but – once Aisling had finally received the Sacraments – she decided to give that a try as well, at least for the sake of learning something.

When Calvin and Hobbes make their first appearance in Christus Rex, Aisling and Rita take an immediate liking to the boys (and vice versa). Both their parents recognize this and are more than happy for the chance to foster such beautiful friendships – especially Melissa, who was afraid Calvin would hate girls for the rest of his life after Susie rejected him – which eventually blossom into beautiful romances. If being baptized didn't already do the trick, meeting her soulmate would finally allow Aisling to start aging normally and share both the remainder of her earthly life and – God-willing – eternal life in Heaven with her friends and loved ones (the same principle would apply to Hobbes, as well as Annie in the ensouled toy scenario). While this scenario leaves Susie in the lurch once again (which makes my pursuing it less likely but still possible), I really like some of the possibilities that come from it. For example, while both Calvin and Hobbes would be able to marry their sweethearts in the original draft, only Calvin and Susie would be able to have kids (ensouled toys not being possessed of any sexual faculties). But in this version, both couples – a human and a humanoid fairy on the one hand, a cat and a catlike pooka on the other – could start new families. Just imagine the awesome chaos (or chaotic awesomeness) of a race of magical Calvin- and Hobbes-babies running around!

Of course, if I just gave up on trying to maintain a balance of male and female characters and let the boys dominate the playing field, having Shaun, Hobbes, Calvin, and Babe the Gallant Pig be the main children's quartet would make for a pretty entertaining story. As for how Babe would enter the fold, I could imagine the Hoggetts falling on hard times and – since their daughter and son-in-law have no desire to support or continue the family business – ultimately selling most of their animals in order to make ends meet, with Babe being sent to Mossy Bottom Farm and taken on as an assistant by Bitzer the Sheepdog. He and Shaun soon become the best of friends and continue to see each other as often as possible after Shaun is adopted by the Parks, with the result that Babe soon becomes part of the family in all but legal status. When the Parks decide to move to America and start the Catholic Worker apostolate, Shaun – partly out of fear of being friendless in a strange land, partly out of fear that his best friend might be slaughtered if he should outlive his usefulness – beseeches his parents to find some way to keep Babe safe, either by bringing him along or at least making sure he goes to a good home. The Parks do far better than that by officially inviting Babe to join the family. The rest, as they say, is history.

Sadly, this would preclude any notion of first love as a main plot element (unattached female pig characters are also deucedly hard to come by). I might still find a way to include Annie and Susie as satellite characters, but my obsession with maintaining both the balance of sexes and the balance of temperaments (equally important to me) would compel me to find another set of parents to look after them, plus another couple with two girls to complete the ensemble.

As it currently stands, in the original draft, the temperaments shake out like so:

ADULTS: Melissa (sanguine-choleric), Archibald (choleric-melancholic), Fluffles (melancholic-phlegmatic), Gromit (phlegmatic-sanguine)

[Nota bene: Although one could regard them as part of the adult ensemble, I consider Monsignor Brown (melancholic-phlegmatic) and Monsignor Tarocci (sanguine-choleric) to be in a category of their own since, being Catholic bishops, they can't marry or officially adopt children.]

CHILDREN: Annie (sanguine-choleric), Calvin (choleric-melancholic), Susie (melancholic-phlegmatic), Hobbes (phlegmatic-sanguine)

In the alternative scenarios, Shaun would take Annie's place as the sanguine-choleric and Babe would take Susie's place as the melancholic-phlegmatic, or else Lilo would be the melancholic-phlegmatic and Stitch would be the sanguine-choleric, or else Aisling would be the sanguine-choleric and Rita would be the melancholic-phlegmatic. If I decide to go with the expanded scenario, it may be that I'll have to bite the bullet and come up with original characters to fill things out (one sanguine-choleric, two choleric-melancholic, one melancholic-phlegmatic, and two phlegmatic-sanguine as things currently stand) – but if anyone has any suggestions, I would be glad to hear them.

ALTERNATE TAKES – PART II

Another alternative path I'm considering is in reference to the House of Hospitality and the Agronomic University. I had at one time decided to have the Catholic Worker apostolate be simultaneously united under a common set of laws and divided in terms of its liturgical/devotional life, with the Farm following the traditional Roman Rite and the House following the Byzantine Rite in Old Church Slavonic.

[Nota bene: Although Koine Greek is the traditional language of the Byzantine Church, I lean toward Slavonic because the Orthodox Churches that use it – especially the Russian Church – can boast, not only an incredible tradition of basso profundo singing (something I think Gromit would be very good at if he could be persuaded to sing), but also music written for their Divine Liturgy by the likes of Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky, which would make a wonderful complement to the Mass settings by Mozart, Palestrina, et al., that grace the Farm on a regular basis. Still, I'm loath to sweep the language of the New Testament itself under the rug, not to mention the thousand-plus-year tradition of Greek chant, so that particular decision may not be set in stone just yet.]

In terms of the calendar, there are two feasible options: Either the House and the Farm could jointly use the Gregorian calendar, or the House could use the Julian calendar (which celebrates the fixed feasts 13 days after the Gregorian date – e.g., Byzantine Christmas is on January 7 instead of December 25 – and uses a different method for calculating Easter). The first option is (I believe) the standard practice of the Eastern Catholic Churches, while the second is current practice for the Orthodox Churches in Georgia, Poland, Russia, Serbia, and Ukraine, as well as the Greek Patriarchate of Jerusalem and the monasteries on Mount Athos. If the House ends up using the Julian calendar, it'll usually result in a one- or two-week difference with the Farm in terms of celebrating Easter. However, the dates do occasionally converge, as they did in 2010 and will again in 2025 – on one of whose calendars I've chosen to base the floating year(s) in which the story takes place.

The permanent volunteers and students in the homeschool academy would be bound by the laws of whichever rite they were raised in or converted into but would be encouraged to "breathe with both lungs" as much as possible, especially if – like Archibald and the Parks – they volunteered or studied at both the House and the Farm for extended periods of time. The result of this would be that, when the Wattersons decide to become Catholic, they would begin their instruction under the Byzantine Rite House bishop around the start of the Nativity Fast (November 15 or November 28, depending on the calendar) and finish it under the Roman Rite Farm bishop – Monsignor Tarocci – by Easter of the following year. Other changes would be as follows:

1) Archibald would have his man-to-man talk with Calvin and Hobbes before the Divine Liturgy on the Feast of the Theophany – the Byzantine equivalent of the Epiphany (January 6 or January 19) – and propose to Melissa after the Divine Liturgy the following Sunday (which, depending on the calendar, would either be the regular Sunday After Theophany or the Sunday of the Publican and the Pharisee). Their wedding would take place on the Saturday after the Transfiguration (August 6 or August 19), one of the twelve Great Feasts of the Byzantine Rite.

This would not only allow them to experience the Byzantine Rite of Holy Matrimony (or "Crowning") – which, in my humble opinion, has a much richer and more celebratory feel than its Roman Rite counterpart – but also give them a chance to receive the Byzantine Rite of Betrothal (for which there is technically an equivalent in the Roman Rite, but the text is almost entirely in English and it doesn't seem to have any history before 1952 or thereabouts, so I'm not especially keen on using it).

2) Susie's parents would make their first house payment by the Sunday of the Holy Forefathers (two Sundays before Christmas in the Byzantine calendar) but would still meet their demise on Christmas Eve. The Midsummer's Eve date for the Parks' proposal would also remain the same – since the Parks, being Roman Catholics and volunteering at the Roman Rite Farm during the summer, would be celebrating that feast anyway – but the date of Annie and Susie's adoption would be moved to the Intercession of the Most Holy Theotokos (October 1 or October 14), another of the twelve Great Feasts.

[Nota bene: All the above dates correspond to the 2010 calendar. If I decide to use the 2025 calendar, the only change would be if the House follows the Byzantine Rite, in which case Archibald would end up proposing on the Sunday After Theophany regardless of fixed feasts – the reason being that the Byzantine Pre-Lent season (which covers the five Sundays before Clean Monday) doesn't start until February 9, by which time Archibald and the Wattersons would already be volunteering at the Farm. In the 2010 calendar, the first Sunday of Pre-Lent (Zacchaeus Sunday) falls on January 17, so depending on the fixed feasts, the proposal would happen either a week before Pre-Lent or on the second Sunday thereof (the Sunday of the Publican and the Pharisee).]

The only problem is, since this is supposed to be a crossover fanfiction, all the major characters have to come from some recognizable franchise – and, sad to say, there are no recognizable franchises (to my knowledge) that include Eastern Orthodox or Eastern Catholic bishops or priests as major characters. The best solution I could produce was to change Monsignor Brown's backstory as follows:

Being an early believer in the apparitions of Our Lady of Fatima, Father Brown took seriously her solemn warning that Russia would spread its errors throughout the world, resulting in wars and persecutions of the Church. As a result, when the Society of Jesus took charge of the Pontifical Oriental Institute in 1917, he obtained permission from his superiors to study there as much as his missionary duties would allow. His intent was to familiarize himself as much as possible with Eastern Christian liturgy and theology in preparation for his newest personal project: Going undercover in those parts of the world assailed by communism and ministering equally to persecuted Catholics of all rites (to say nothing of evangelizing the Eastern Orthodox and – God-willing – converting the Communists). By the end of the Bolshevik Revolution in 1923, he had gained such equal proficiency in Roman and Byzantine Catholic practice that his superiors granted him permission to start working in secret behind Soviet lines. He went on several such missions to both the U.S.S.R. and the People's Republic of China between then and March of 1955, when he first got in trouble for calling out Pope Pius XII's liturgical reforms. When the same Pope overturned the ancient Holy Week and Pentecost rites in October of that year, Father Brown realized with a heavy heart which way the wind was blowing and voluntarily surrendered his Roman Rite faculties, becoming a full-time Byzantine Rite priest from then on. Although this action wasn't condemnable in itself, his malfeasant liberal superiors knew full well why he was doing it and proceeded to increasingly haze and marginalize him until he finally de-professed from the Jesuits in 1965 (much to their relief).

Much like Fluffles taking refuge with the Melkite Catholics to escape the insanity of the post-Vatican II "silly season" (and avoid the potential schism brought about by Archbishop Lefebvre), Father Brown incardinated with the Ukrainian Catholic Exarchate of the Holy Family in London and quietly took up an assistant role at the Cathedral of the Holy Family in Exile, all the while praying and doing penance for the success of the Latin Mass Society of England and Wales and other groups trying to preserve the traditional Roman Rite. While he wasn't directly involved in Gromit's conversion to Catholicism, when the latter asked around for a good priest to be his spiritual director, a friend of a friend introduced them and the two began a pen pal relationship that eventually resulted in Father Brown being appointed the new ordinary of the Catholic Workers – on three conditions:

1) That he be consecrated using the Byzantine Archieratikon in Slavonic (or Greek, as the case may be);

2) That his old Roman Rite faculties be restored along with his Byzantine ones; and

3) That he be given the power to grant faculties for both rites to any priests under his authority.

Thanks to Dr. K.'s advice, I'm going to stick with the unified Roman Rite scenario for the foreseeable future because having one shared rite to live in its fullness is much easier for an intentional community to sustain – and, for as awesomely awesome as the Byzantine Rite is, it might prove a little too exotic for most readers in the Western Hemisphere. But in case I decide to throw caution to the wind and go with the mixed Roman-Byzantine scenario after all, I've already drawn a Microsoft Paint image of Father Brown as a Byzantine bishop and – despite it not meshing with any of his current or former portrayals – I think he looks rather splendid.

In the meantime, I've thought of two other ways to introduce a bit of liturgical diversity to the House and the Farm that still respect the integrity of the Western Church:

1) Have a cloister of traditional Dominican brothers and sisters come on board to help out at the House and have a cloister of traditional Benedictine monks and nuns do the same for the Farm. This would give the residents and volunteers at the House a chance to experience the Mass and Divine Office in the traditional Dominican Rite (according to the 1939 Missal and the 1909 Breviary respectively) and give the volunteers at the Farm a taste of the ancient Monastic Breviary as originally developed and continuously prayed by the Benedictines down to the present (the 1930 edition is the most recent one I could find online, so we'll have to start from there). The Benedictines – as has been their tradition for at least the past few centuries – would celebrate the Roman Rite Mass but would use a different calendar that includes all the proper saints of their order, which would also be a pleasant change of pace for the volunteers.

[Nota bene: Regardless of which Breviary ends up getting used – Benedictine, Dominican, or Roman Rite as reformed by St. Pius X – both the House and the Farm would endeavor to avoid the overly Classicized hymns of Urban VIII.]

Usually, one would associate the Franciscans with a charity outfit like the House – in contrast to the Dominicans, who are much better known for preaching and teaching – but I think the Dominicans are a better fit because one of Peter Maurin's original aims for the Catholic Worker Movement was developing a system that would "make scholars out of workers and workers out of scholars," and I seriously doubt that any Dominican worthy of the name would turn up their nose at a chance to combine the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy in one apostolate. Besides which, on a practical level, trying to find traditional Franciscan materials online – at least from the immediate pre-Vatican II era – is like pulling a tooth. (Not that there is much to find, since the Franciscans use the Roman Rite for both the Mass and the Divine Office, with the only major differences in the former being the calendar of saints and the propers of certain feast days.)

2) Have Gromit convince a huge swath of disaffected Anglo-Catholics to join him in setting up the House, all of whom are happy to assist at the classical Roman Rite but can't help feeling nostalgic for the Anglican Patrimony they left behind (including Gromit). The eventual result is that Monsignor Brown decides to make a major pastoral adjustment by adopting – and Catholicizing, where needed – the Anglican Missal and Monastic Diurnal (the standard Anglican Breviary is only available in print), along with the rituals for Holy Matrimony and Christian Burial from the Book of Common Prayer (1662 or 1928). He might run into some canonical difficulties, but since Anglican Use parishes aren't legally required to join the Ordinariates established by Benedict XVI (which have their own special Missal that includes more elements of the Pauline Rite and the 1979 B.C.P.) and Rome is desperate to keep him, Monsignor Tarocci, and the others at arm's length, I think they would approve the experiment without too much fuss. This way, among other things, we would get to see the boys as choristers – I can just imagine Calvin surprising everyone with a beautiful soprano voice – and Gromit as a verger – I think he would cut a very elegant figure in the traditional cap and gown.

If anyone has any other suggestions, liturgical or otherwise, I would be more than happy to hear them!