(Today's Flash Fiction Friday challenge from Advizortoall: No more than 200 words, not including title, with the key word "Conclave" in the body of the story and referencing the following picture. I chose not to go for any of the extra credit.)
“Cardinal Rabinowitz's Office, His Eminence's social secretary speaking.”
“Brother Maxwell, this is Monseigneur Delacroix,” I intoned. “I just received a disturbing call from the rector at St. Swivens Cathedral. Wasn't His Eminence scheduled to be there today?”
There was the clicking of computer keys as the secretary accessed his calendar. “Yes, he was scheduled to be there today but as you are well aware, he had to fly to Rome to attend the conclave, now that His Holiness has stepped down.”
“Yes, I am aware of that,” I assured the brother. “And why was he scheduled to come to St. Swivens today?”
“To celebrate his birthday,” was the reply. “I've already rescheduled it for next month.”
“Everything?” I inquired.
“Yes, everything,” he replied, sounding a bit unsure.
“Then why is there a bound naked woman in high heels standing in the middle of the sanctuary?” I roared.
“I'm going over there now. Call the agency and reschedule her for next month, same price. I will pay her now, but it will come out of your pay!” I growled.
“Uh... I... I...”
“This is why you'll never be anything but a brother!” I muttered before slamming down the phone.
(Gardener's note: I have to confess (now there's a good Catholic concept) I didn't know what to write before I went to be last night. I though about it and the story above just popped into my head. Guess I better start shopping for fire-retardant long underwear!)