A sweet disaster

In a Christian country or may be religious is the better term, considering that a significant number of people are more religious than Christian ok this is now confusing. Can one be Christian and not religious? Well enough of that. What I wanted to say before I got distracted is that or is it was that? Well, was or is that in Christianity polygamy is a sin. Is a sin a crime and are all crimes sins. Polygamous Christians commit a sin when they take up more than two wives ok so why is the plural of wife not wifes, the English need to explain how their language works. How many married Christians visit more than their wife’s bed? How many? Huh? … so why is polygamy not operationalized or is the right word legalised. And by the way, why are the priests not allowed to marry. We all know that chastity is a myth. May be there are some people that are chaste. Not all. And is one still chaste if they masturbate? What do the wives of a priest call each other since they are not officially wives in the true sense of the word Co-cohabits? Or girlfriends but they no longer qualify as girls?  Let’s use wifes, yes? Ok this is not a word but it looks like a word so yes I pronounce it a word. Who defines words as official? Is there like a supreme court of grammar? I know of words now that were not official a few years back. Who decided and decreed their existence? Why were they nonexistent a few years back? If these words evolved why can’t Christianity evolve?
Back to where we were … once upon a time in a not so far land there lived a little boy whose dream was to be like one of those people who used to pass by their home riding those fine machines. And so the young man decided he was going to be like that man when he grew up. Blah blah blah. You see, motorcycles were a preserve of the anointed few.
He is now grown up and his dream came true. Yes! dreams don’t only come true in movies and blogs but in real life as well as was the case with this little boy. This is not fictions I don’t write fiction, am not a fictional writer, I am a live being. The priest was loved by all and you know why? He was lovely and loveable and so he was loved and he too loved to love so love was in the air. The air around the parish was scented with love. And everyone was happy, the nuns, the female cooks and all. But love is strange, it’s selfish it does not want to be shared. It traps you it devours you it can break you and it can also embarrass you. It can bring president Bill down. On his knees I mean. That was quite a sweet scandal I suppose. There was this particular “love”, sweet brown beauty don’t ask me how I know that she was sweet. But sweet she was and tasty. Is that possible? Shiiii! In this case it was. I am the one telling the story. This beauty worked as secretary at the parish. Kalaani! That’s the word that’s used. She wore long (usually white) skirts and soft little blouses. Hmm seems bras were scarce those days, you could see clearly the …. Ok I am drifting from the story. The priest would make it a point to pass by the window of the secretary’s office every morning. To give her instructions but we all know he did not have to do this personally. But do this himself he still did. I knew why, he could not resist nor miss a day without looking at her, actually her chest. Oh that pointy little chest. Oh that chest, I would take the whole day just ogling them. Good thing she loved the attention her chest received. I was therefore never in trouble for indulging my eyes. Can we just say the secretary’s chest pierced through the priest’s heart and so began the secret (-ary) relationship herein after called the secretaryship.
This is how it all began, it was one lazy rainy Saturday afternoon, there was paper work to be completed for Sunday service or something, my memory fails me. Most of the parish workers were off duty and there was an air of quiet around the hill. The nuns were all back at the convent. It was the priest and the secretary who were around that whole day. He passed by her office window the allure was particularly stronger this cold lonely day. He had no power to resist this temptation and he but gave in to it. He invited her into his room for take some tea. There is no harm in sharing some tea, is there? Not always. There was in this case, you see the tea was to be taken in the priests room. The problem or the good thing depending on how one looks at it, was that there was a bed in his room. A warm bed! Actually his room was basically a bedroom. You know like those bed sitters we had at campus. May be you did not have one but you get it, yes? OK! You see, it’s not wise to put a boy and a girl in a room where there is a bed, especially when they are unmarried, hot blooded and sexually starved. That’s a recipe for sweet wet disaster.
That, my friends, is how the secretaryship began or started or commenced or whatever suits. But there was a problem. This priest had someone else from his previous deployment. The two only met outside the parish premises and did this so cleverly that no one else knew about it, except me of course! I have to get back to work, so I will summarize the story.
When the young secretary learns of the priest’s old flame, she plots on overthrowing her. It’s now two secretaries vying for the priest’s affection. It’s no long the case of a sole secretary. First she has to convince the priest that surely twenty nine years must be too long and he must be tired of tasting the same fruit, that the fruit must be tired as well and the time is ripe to pluck a new fruit. It’s now a game of alters. May the best secretary win. But what of the priest, what about his views? What if he wants a new secretary? What if he is tired of secretaries? What if he wants a transfer from the parish. What is the priest to do? These questions will be answered in season two coming soon. 
… To Be Continued ….


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