two prophets

by genghis gilgamesh

two prophets of doom, robert iingersoll and john brown, were arrested for disturbing the peace of the imperial city, and brought before the captain of the guard, pope innocent xiv. what have we here? the pope asked big bertha, the arresting officer. who are these unprepossessing looking malefactors? and why have you brought them here, instead of to the patent office? they are prophets of disaster, big bertha replied. they are disturbing the peace of the city and proclaiming impending doom - two very different versions of doom, i must add. under the conditions of city ordnance 54-7-h, pope innocent rejoindreed stiffly, prophecies of doom are considered imaginative works and are therefore under the jurisdiction of the patent office. excuse me, robert iingersoll interrupted, but we should be brought before the copyright office, which is entirely separate from the patent office, said copyright office reporting in turn to the ministry of satisfaction, not, like the patent office, to the ministry of coordination. i worked for the ministry of coordination for many years, john brown piped up, before taking to the street as a bum and a prophet of doom, and i can tell you, they had the worst employee cafeteria in the whole city. all this is very well, bertha shouted, but it is time for my break and i would just like to leave these two ham sandwiches with somebody, after detailing the nature io their offenses. this one - indicating robert ingersoll - claims that a monster, taller than the tallest mountain in the hinterlands, will emerge from the sea and devour the city. nonsense, pope innocent snorted, such a monster can not exist, as it has been proven that it would collapse under its own weight. yes, and crush the city under it, robert replied authoritatively. be on your way, the pope replied, and stop bothering people. why can’t you stooges just stop bothering people? robert left, mumbling to himself, and bertha resumed her account. and this one, who gives his name as john brown, insists that unless the citizens of the city mend their ways, the earth will split open and the city fall into the center of the planet, which will itself cease to spin, and fall into the sun. the citizens of the city have not mended their ways for three thousand years, the pope replied acidly, and the city has not fallen into the sun. begone, both of you, and leave me to my uninspired musings. bertha and john brown departed, and the pope was left to his sadly uninspired thoughts and sank bank wearily into his padded throne. after a decent interval his secretary, billy budd, emerged from behind the red curtain. what time is the monster coming to swallow the city? the pope asked billy. five o’clock, and he is swallowing the universe, not just the city. if you say so. in any case, we have time for a cup of coffee and a few hands of cribbage. billy took the cribbage board out of the grandfather clock and began spooning the freshly ground coffee into the shiny new percolator, which he had purchased only that morning.