A once a year series in honor of Talk Like A Pirate Day, mateys. Arrrg! Pass the grog!
Last we port Pete th' Swashbuckler, he be gettin' ordained t' th' Holy Priesthood. Now our matey an` spiritual f`thr got hisself a parish, Star o' th' Sea Church. The Bishop be striding up to make a friendly call.
Bishop: Ahoy thar, F'thr Pete!
Fr Pete (smiling): Yo ho ho, it be me fa'orite landlubbing Bishop! How be ye today?
Bishop: Right fine, Pete. 'Tis a beauty of a day in God's good creation. I jus' be wanting to check and see how you be gettin' along thar.
Fr Pete: Bishop, I be doin' grand. I be havin' started all these new evangelization projects, an' th' swabbies seem t' be really respondin' t' them.
Bishop: Ye don't say now? Tell me, bucko.
Fr Pete: Garrr. Well, I decided t' start simple, be seein', an' I told th' hospitality committee they be servin' burgoo instead o' donuts after Mass fer now on. T' be in sympathy wi' th' poor, I be seein'.
Fr Pete: Aye, they be shoveling it down their gullet right smart when I be looking at them--and this Lent, we be servin' hardtack. And then th' Holy Church, I noticed 't be needin' a spit-shine, 't be lookin' starboard dingy fer our Lord's house. So I gave th' clistin' committee lassies some holystones an' told them t' swab 'till they be seeing their reflection in th' pews. Aye, they be a bunch of sprogs, but I be done proud. They be working 12, 14 hours on th' Holy poopdeck thar.
Bishop: Arrr, F'thr Pete....
Fr Pete: Oh, and Bishop, I be saving the best for last. When I be askin' fer lectors an' musicians, th' entire parish signed up. Ever' last mate. They be fightin' t' be first in line, I tell ye!
Bishop (forcefully): F'thr Pete, belay already--sit ye down. I be afraid somet'ing is happenin' here.
Fr Pete: Success, yer Excellency?
Bishop: Ah, no, me son. I think yer parish be frightened of ye. They be having the Davies, like.
Fr Pete: Avast, Bishop! It canna be! I be as gentle as th' cook servin' extra slop t' th' sea sick ones below deck!
Bishop: Bucko, think ye back now. Say you anyt'ing to be threat'ning, at all? No jokes about walkin' th' plank?
Fr Pete: Shiver me timbers, Bishop. I be givin' me life to Christ, and dunna joke about such a thing. All I be doing is asking the mateys from my days of livin' on the account to help out.
Bishop: "Help out"?
Fr Pete: Aye, Jack an` Jamie an` Henry asked to be baptized aft`r me ordination, an' wantin` t' help. So I be havin' them be`in greeters t' th' congregation.
Bishop (sighing): F'thr, I be speakin' clearly now: I have gott'n complaints about some o' yer mateys growling that they be wanting to "keelhaul yer souls" when the parishioners be walking in. Anot'er told a lassie "Wench, get ye covered or I be wrappin' a sail about ye" and another that th' cat o' nine tails is a hangin' in wait fer the first heretic they be finding.
Fr Pete: Arr. The buckos ar' enthusiastic, like.
Bishop: Aye, but first thin' they be hearin` in yer foyer, laddie? Tis a hospital fer sinners an' a house o' mercy, Pete. Ye know that better than most. An' yer flock, they need be knowin' that. I know yer heart be good, Pete, but yer flock nay be as tough as yer mateys.
Fr Pete: I be talkin' to the buckos smartly, Bishop. I hear ye and be takin' care of it.
Bishop: An' I be stopping the burgoo, lad. It being the day of the resurrection an all. Resurrection and burgoo, nay, it dunna mix.
Fr Pete: Righto, me Cap'n Bishop. But may I ask ye one thing?
Bishop: O' course, me son.
Fr Pete: May I be applying me new pirate evangelization approach for the toughest biscuits? ...like... Adult Faith Formation?
Bishop (pauses to think, nods): Aye, F'thr Pete, wit' me every blessing. `Tis our cross t` bear, an' ye strike ou' t` sail against that storm immediately. God go wit' ye, me lad.
Fr Pete strides purposefully into the Church, chuckling yo ho ho ho ho....
(...an' this be call'd a cliffhang'r! See ye next year!)
UPDATE! Ahoy, I see up from t' mizzenmast--thar be Cap'n Morgan's words o' wisdom at LarryD's jollyboat!