Pope Mohammed and Saving Energy

“To keep costs down in our orphanages around the world located in cities where the temperatures drop below freezing,” says Pope Mohammed hunched over a bowl of steaming lobster bisque. His glasses are fogged as he blows on a spoon-full of orange soup.

“To keep costs down in our orphanages,” repeats Pope Mohammed. “We turn off the freezers, and leave the doors open to keep the food cold.”

 

Pope Mohammed and the Realization

“I didn’t quite realize,” says Pope Mohammed sitting on a bench yanking on a shoelace of his Nike Airs. You are standing at a locker, twisting the knob to your combination. The echo-y sounds of showers can be heard. A stranger walks past holding a toiletry bag wearing only towel.

“I didn’t quite realize,” repeats Pope Mohammed. “… just how little mine was until I saw yours.”

You pause. You look down at the towel you just covered yourself in after taking off sweaty shorts. You look back up at the locker. Your face cringes.

You have to restart your combination from the beginning.

Out of your peripheral vision, you can see an older man facing away from you, stark naked. He is powdering his legs and genitals with baby powder. His scrotum bangs between his legs as he reaches around rubbing the powder in.

Another man weighs himself on a nearby scale holding a towel closed around his waist with one hand. Within a glimpse, you notice a tattoo in the middle of his lower back. “A man with a tramp stamp,” you think. “Huh.”

You look down at Pope Mohammed who is holding his shoes like two fish with their mouths wide open as he slides them into a duffel bag.

“Compared to mine,” starts Pope Mohammed. Your eyes open wide wondering what’s coming next. He clears his throat.

“Compared to mine, your gym bag is enormous.”

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Pope Mohammed is a short story series that I’ve been working on for some time. More here.

Pope Mohammed and the Road

“I have a huge…” says Pope Mohammed. You’re both dangling your legs over the end of a pier looking out over the Pacific. The sun is falling like a disc into the water miles away.

Pope Mohammed’s hand digs into a waxy paper bag for a handful of popcorn the color of the sun and he stuffs a handful in his mouth.

“I have a huge…” repeats Pope Mohammed, he sucks the tip of the tops of two fingers before finishing … “I have a huge, Combine-Harvester type machine that I use to devour paved roads.”

You reach over and take a few pieces of popcorn from Pope Mohammed’s bag.

You furrow your eyebrows when you ask, “What do you do with that?”

“What?” says Pope Mohammed looking at you. Then he looks over the ocean and says, “Gollah wrote in his holy book, The Qur’ible, that roads were always to be smooth dirt. These new convoluted paved roads must be made holy again.”

The sounds of waves and seagulls surround you.

“For it is written,” says Pope Mohammed. “Resist what is new, avoid what is smooth. Do not let modern paved roads guide your path. Destroy them.” Pope Mohammed tilts his head back and dumps the kernels from the bag into the back of his throat. He lets the wind take the bag and it floats out and lands in the water.

You clear your throat.

“Doesn’t the Qur’ible also say, Execute those who litter into the ocean.’” You say with a bit of hesitance.

A seagull flies close by and lands on a pillar. It flexes its tail and relaxes.

“Don’t be a smart ass,” says Pope Mohammed.

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Read past episodes

Pope Mohammed and Selflessness

“The secret to happiness,” says pope Mohammed just before plugging the tip of his thumb in his mouth, withdrawing it quickly making a smack sound. He reaches for a flute of a 1998 Krug Clos du Mesnil.

He sips.

He swallows.

“The secret to happiness,” repeats Pope Mohammed, “is complete selflessness.” You are sitting across from Pope Mohammed sipping a beer. Your hands are crossed on the place mat in front of you.

There’s a plate of canapés topped with Iranian Caviar in front of Pope Mohammed. There’s alittle more on his thumb and he licks it off.

Pope Mohammed says, “My flock easily loses sight of the formula which is to devote their savings to Gollah. Money is temporary. Gollah’s love is forever for the simple price of 9% of their income.”

“You know,” says Pope Mohammed. “We’re not greedy like those Christians.”

Pope Mohammed pauses. Picks up a canapé topped with caviar with two fingers, lays it on his tongue and closes his mouth. His brows furrow.

The dining room you’re in is dimly lighted with incandescent lights and lots of candles. The hushed murmurs of quiet conversations and forks clanking against plates is all around your table.

You wonder if the diamond in the ring on his right hand is four or five karats.

“Did you know that the Russians [he leans forward forward] — those liver-soaked commies — package caviar and put the Iranian Caviar labels on it and pass it as the real stuff? Could you imagine … tarnishing your palate with counterfeit caviar,” says Pope Mohammed.

There’s a man wearing an expensive looking suit to your right. A waiter puts a plate in front of him. Pope Mohammed leans over and says, “Crème brûlée of foie gras with tonga beans. Good choice.“

“Where was I?” asks Pope Mohammed.

“Russian caviar?” You say.

“Oh yeah,” he says. “Our mission is to help those who can’t help themselves. Our goal should be helping the needy, the destitute, like Gollah did when he came to earth.

Pope Mohammed places another canapé on his tongue. Starts chewing, but doesn’t finish before saying, “But they gotta pay the rates to stay in the church, right?”

A waiter appears. He’s wearing a bow tie and a cumber bun. “How’s everything, sir Mohammed?” which is how he prefers to be called in public.

“You know what,” Pope Mohammed says. “The temperature on the caviar is wrong.

“The waiter says, “How’s that?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No Sir Mohammed. I’ve never heard of that.”

“Do you have google?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Look it up and bring it back when it’s right.”

Pope Mohammed and the Perfect Creation

“Gollah created the world — He created the universe — and everything in it, perfectly. Excellently. Tailor-made for life on Earth,” says Pope Mohammed. His hands are on handle bars. His feet are in stirrups. His head is in a helmet. Pope Mohammed is wearing bicycle shorts and a fitted jersey that reads “CAUTION” on the front.

“Everything?” You ask. You are riding beside Pope Mohammed wearing blue jeans that are a little worn on the thighs and a faded blue t-shirt. A group of roller bladers pass you both rolling in the opposite direction.

“Gollah created the world,” says Pope Mohammed looking over his shoulder. He looks forward again. He spits to his right. You are on his left, peddling, with one pant leg rolled to the middle calf.

Pope Mohammed says, “Gollah created all the animals, the insects, the reptiles. He created everything. Splendidly. Magnificently. It was all part of Gollah’s perfect plan.”

“Everything,” you repeat. “Perfectly.” You aren’t thinking. Just repeating.

A woman with a taut stomach and tan skin wearing shorts and a sports bra runs past you in the opposite direction. You can hear the soles of her shoes grinding against the gravel with each step.

“Gollah created women … perfectly,” says Pope Mohammed, looking back over his shoulder. “Gollah created them to supply the world with babies.”

You see the lake nearby. You see the birds flying between trees over tennis courts. You see a plane flying toward O’Hare over the Lawrence Avenue flight path. You smell a grill, and meats cooking on it, and smoke rising from it. Around it, you see a Mexican family camped under a tree. Some of them are playing volleyball with a soccer ball. You hear a child squeal happily playing on a blanket with her mother.

“Gollah created everything,” says Pope Mohammed downshifting. His legs look like their going to fling from the peddles. “Gollah created everything perfectly. Look how amazing this world is. There is no accident. There are no flaws.”

Pope Mohammed upshifts and moves in front of you. On the back of Pope Mohammed’s cycling Jersey, it reads, “CAUTION: POWERED BY NATURAL GAS.”

You peddle back to Pope Mohammed’s left side.

“So Gollah created everything?” You ask Pope Mohammed.

Pope Mohammed doesn’t hesitate. “Yes, isn’t it beautiful?”

You peddle a few times and you ask, “Gollah created cancer, disease, death, destruction, famine, war?”

“No, Gollah did not create those things.”

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Pope Mohammed and the Delicate Children of Africa

You’re riding down the street in Pope Mohammed’s Pope Mohammed Mobile, and he’s jibber jabbering your ears off about faith, a nomad named Abram — whom you’re supposed to look up to by the way — and something about mustard.

Your stomach growls. The craving of the day is french fries cooked in truffle oil … dipped in mustard.

You scratch your head and ask yourself why this man of great faith needs four-inch thick bulletproof glass protecting him.

“Did you know,” says Pope Mohammed, “that if you wash your hair with a product from one haircare manufacturer and condition with one from another haircare manufacturer, a child in Africa will be born with AIDs and get malaria the next day?”

You look at Pope Mohammed who is damned sure of the words coming from his mouth and he’s also damned sure to pick the booger lodged deep in his right nostril.

Pope Mohammed keeps talking. You listen. “Did you know … that if you wash your hair with VO5 shampoo, condition with Suave and then wash your face with Irish Spring soap and get it mixed in with your hair, a child in Africa will die?”

The hum of the motor seems louder the longer there is silence between you. You finger the glass thinking of truffle oil french fries … and now dead African babies.

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Pope Mohammed and the Instruction Manual

 

Image via CrunchBase

 

Pope Mohammed wears many hats when it comes to making a buck. He has a thriving online store at eBay® and a flourishing number of Dollar Store-type joints chockfull of junk goods.

One of his best sellers is a bedroom set of furniture. In the showroom or in the store catalog, the set looks gorgeous and its pricetag is dirt cheap. If you buy the set, the whole kit and caboodle shows up at your house in 40 boxes of various sizes. Pieces from the chest of drawers could be in the same box as the bed set and others with the side tables.

One box includes an instruction manual.

“Finding the manual is kind of a game,” says Pope Mohammed. “It’s never in the same box twice.”

In his sales pitch, Pope Mohammed will tell you he wrote the manual himself. He’ll also tell you about his family and the days when he used to make 6 figures, back before the recession.

Pope Mohammed will say, “Have you got a minute? I have to tell you about my son. He’s such a good kid. One time we were in the car, he was 8 years old, and he told me he wasn’t going to waste his time at school. He was going to make good grades.” Pope Mohammed is very proud of his son.

Pope Mohammed will tell you how long it took to write the instruction manual for the bedroom set. “If it weren’t for my son playing loudly in the house, I would have finished the manual sooner,” he’ll tell you. “If it weren’t for my son and the accident he was in, I would have finished the manual more accurately.”

Pope Mohammed will say, “You’re not going to find a better deal on a bedroom set any where.”

One time, Pope Mohammed got really drunk. “Me? I didn’t write that manual. Shoot. My minions in Africa somewhere … they wrote it. Or were they the translators? Somebody wrote it. I sure as [bleep] didn’t write it.”

Pope Mohammed will throw back another shot of Jay-mo and slurp a big gulp of Coors Light and slur some more, “The manual is usssseless. You’re bedder off without it … but don’t tell nobody. Shhhhhhhhhhhh. Don’t tell no. [belch] body.”

Pope Mohammed and Economical Bathing

When Pope Mohammed squats to pick up change, he noses his crotch odor and thinks to himself,”I took a bath a month ago. Surely I can wait another month before bathing again.”

Later Pope Mohammed will laugh because he remembers how he convinces half the people he knows to take financial advice from grossly rich television personalities. On those TV stations, he advertises a bracelet he invented that gives its wearers more energy. “It’s a good thing these people don’t really know Yeshua,” he says to himself. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t watch this station and they wouldn’t buy my bracelets.”

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Pope Mohammed and the Temple of Doom Parties

At parties, you can say Pope Mohammed is an attention whore.

If you, or anyone else, doesn’t give him the obsequious flattery he requires, he’ll go Temple of Doom on your ass. One second you’ll have a heart inside your chest. The next second — after a loud thud and a suction cup sound effect –you’ll be staring at Pope Mohammed’s grappling hook hand holding your bleeding beating heart.

Go ahead, scream. It’ll make no difference. Instead, take a sip of your cocktail before he opens a trap door beneath your feet and he drops you into a pool of lava.

That’ll teach you to go to Pope Mohammed’s parties.

Pope Mohammed and his extra maritime goddess virgin Taliban olive oil

Pope Mohammed’s Craigslist ad reads:

All of the virgin olive oil w/o any of the bloody side effects! Delivered to your door, in a bottle shaped like a maritime sea goddess virgin … wearing a burka.

Box of 72 just $150 … CHEAP!

• Location: Mecca Rome
• it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

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