12 Catholic-Influencers who shaped Modern Science
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At Smokey’s Bar & Grill, the 2 minions debated how best to organize.
Ironically, Satan’s policies worked against his goals and quotas. With contraception and abortion, fewer souls were available. This made demons work longer hours using cut-throat manipulations. This treachery alone, qualified minions for benefits. Organizing against Satan was going to be heck.
Everyone agreed that a balance of power was needed and now. Quotas were impossible. Regularly, Satan inflated their milestones and benchmarks. Tighter policies sowed seeds of further hate and discontentment. For live earthlings, the marketing strategy was — hell was exciting! Who craved cloud-couches for cazillions of years; when parties, raves and addictions called? Meanwhile, minions still waited for their forever-promised: all-night party.
Organizing would empower union reps to extort Satan’s power and inject fractionated-freedoms into their miserable existences. Minions wanted less street-enslavement, while seeking the greatest good for their greatest number. What they didn’t realize was, they mirrored Satan’s pride and greed; with their envy and anger.
Smokey’s had the best laming-flaming brewskis. Brainstorming, they explored ways to coax other minions along. One was prophetic.
“We need specialized help,” said Orange. “We can’t do this ourselves.”
“Valid,” acknowledged the black minion, licking his lit lips. “But the smartest demons are chairing colleges, big Pharma boards and Washington DC. When we started, this was about crashing union meetings for free beer and pizza.”
“I’m still down for that,” seconded Orange. “But if we want to do this right, we need more street minions. Numbers are leverage. If we platform their union, deadbeats must cover our quotas. Unionizing is a better gig than stealing souls. And, we can be our own bosses!”
“Anything is better than working for His Horrendousness,” mused Black, draining his 3rd stout. “I’m tired of being his doggie dung. Everything is possible, through the possession of proprietary principles,”
Pulling final backwash, Orange raised an eyebrow, gauging Black’s intellect and vocabulary. Sporting a foam moustache, Orange slammed his stein on the counter and shouted, “I’ll be president and you can be my VP! I hereby dub all union members as ‘co-bosses.’”
Black spewed froth across the counter, “why are you president? Who ever heard of ‘President Shirley?’ YOU can be VP. Besides, I suggested this scheme to Satan!”
“His Hideousness doesn’t even know your name! Besides, organizing was my idea,” announced Orange.
“Was not,” countered Black.
“Was too,” argued Orange. “By the way, what IS your name? Do you even remember it? How can you be ‘President No-Name?’”
Their exchange exploded. Black drove a greasy blow into Orange and the fight was on. Glass shattered and chairs flew. Fighting was a nightly expectation at Smokey’s Pub. Patrons elevated their drinks and rib-slab-platters, as they watched another fight roll by. Never missing a bite, conversations continued and bets were laid. Shaking his head, Smokey stood behind the bar. Smokey was not just the owner, he was bartender, cook, dishwasher, postmaster, dentist and hawker of bait-and-tackle. His earthly soul was condemned due to his airline food-prep. Also, he waited tables, since minions couldn’t be trusted to manage money or punch patrons.
Smokey wanted a respectable establishment; however, this was hell. Truth be told, it was a dive. But he sold the finest flamed-filets anywhere. Of course, Smokey’s was the only grill in hell. Meanwhile, the romp continued. No one broke it up, as Black and Orange would eventually tire. Having enough, Smokey threw them out. He told them to stay away, just like every other time. Yet they always returned. Honestly, Smokey needed them back to pay their bill. Next visit, drooling at the bar; Smokey withheld all service until their accounts were paid in-full.
Sweeping shards, Smokey recalled 'Shirley' as the orange demon. But who was the black imp? He sized-up both as potential union leaders. Neither had business backgrounds or people skills, as did Smokey. Aha! — maybe he should run for union president!
<See below link for Chapter 10: “Uh, huh” >
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 2: Jerking Satan’s Chain & the burning laptop
Chapter 3: “Hmm …. I guess I read that wrong”
Chapter 4: The devil is in the details
Chapter 5: And what did they want to organize?
Chapter 6: Nothing is ever good enough
Chapter 7: What could be worse?
Chapter 9: It’s all in the sales pitch
Chapter 11: Just the first day
Chapter 12: Let’s get comfortable
Chapter 13: Take a load off
Chapter 14: The 2nd day & who is messing with whom?
Chapter 15: The meeting of the minds—to waste
Chapter 16: The minions in the Caucus Room or a mind is a terrible thing
Chapter 17: Stop & smell the roses
Chapter 18: Same evening, different place or the mindless are meeting
Chapter 19: Paper, Rock or Scissors
Chapter 20: My issues are stupider than yours!
Chapter 21: You have the right to remain silent
Chapter 22: Let the stupidity begin
Chapter 23: When in hell, it doesn’t matter what day it is
Chapter 24: Insolence at its finest
Chapter 25: Striking for the hell of it
Chapter 26: The signing ceremony
Chapter 27: Mary’s contingency is fulfilled
Science cannot explain suffering. As Lay Passionist and nurse, she challenges modern health care assumptions; contraception, abortion, euthanasia, herd immunity and more. Behind every health dilemma, God asks us to abide in Him. Author of 7 books & >20 peer-reviewed nursing journal articles; she also writes as "The Catholic Nurse" on Substack, see "Archives." She is a veteran of the Army Nurse Corps. Her primary charism is mercy through which she explores redemptive suffering, spiritual healing and the joy of bringing of souls to God.
