Jacob Rothschild (adjusting his tie): “I must protest! I am nothing like thatโฆ cartoonish plutocrat Mr. Burns. For one, my fortune is merely a modest billionโhardly enough to buy the moon or block out the sun. And I certainly don’t keep hounds.”
(Pause. He raises a pale hand with a glint of mischief.)
“โฆSmithers?”
Smithers (from behind a velvet curtain): “Yes, sir?”
Jacob Rothschild (grinning slightly): “Release the houndsโฆ but only on Ned Flanders. That goody-two-shoes must be hiding something in that mustache.”
(Cut to Flanders watering his lawn) “Okily dokilyโAAAAHHH! DOGGILY DANGEROUS!”
(Cue dramatic orchestral music and a scrolling ticker that reads): โBREAKING: British Billionaire Denies Being Springfield Villain. Also, Unleashes Hounds.โ
The bells of Saint Peterโs had not rung in this tone for decades โ low, hesitant, almost unsure of what world awaited its next shepherd. The year was 2025, and the conclave had begun. The College of Cardinals gathered under Michelangeloโs ceiling, weighed down not only by age, but by scandal, climate catastrophe, and the crumbling faith of the poor.
Behind the scenes, two names echoed like quiet thunder: Father Sebastian of Haiti, beloved by orphans and feared by corrupt bishops, and Joe Jukic, the bold and rebellious theologian from Croatia โ a man not yet a cardinal, but whose voice had reached the ears of faithful youth worldwide.
Inside the Sistine Chapel
“Father Sebastian is too radical,” whispered an Italian bishop. “He walks barefoot through cholera wards and refuses silk vestments. He baptized a gang leader with sea water in a plastic cup.”
“But the people love him,” replied another. “And he speaks Latin, Creole, and the truth.”
Meanwhile, in Zagrebโฆ
Joe Jukic sat in his modest home, watching the vote on a cracked laptop screen. When the Vatican emissary knocked on his door, he was already shaking his head.
โIโll only accept the red hat,โ Joe said, โif I can remain married. I wonโt lie to the people. I have a wife, and I will love her openly, not in secret.”
The envoy stammered. โThat is notโฆ customary, Signore Jukic.โ
Joe poured him a glass of wine.
“Then it’s time to change the custom.”
The Conclave Breaks Tradition
Word spread quickly. Joeโs terms shocked the Vatican’s old guard, but inspired millions. Videos of Joe quoting scripture on love and truth went viral. Priests in slums and warzones began calling him โCardinal of the People.โ
Inside the conclave, a new vote was cast.
And with thunderous surprise, the ballots read:
“Sebastian, from Haiti โ for Pope.”
On the fifth vote, he accepted the name Pope Gelasius II, in honor of the first African pope of the 5th century.
In His First Address
Standing beneath the balconyโs white curtain, Pope Gelasius II raised a hand for silence.
โI will serve not as king, but as barefoot servant. And as my first act, I appoint Cardinal Joe Jukic of Croatia, husband, teacher, and voice of a new day. May his marriage remind us that love is sacred โ not secret.โ
A New Era Begins
Cardinal Jukic wept as his red robes were placed over his shoulders โ beside his wife, who held his hand and whispered a prayer.
Together with Pope Gelasius II, they walked out onto the square โ not above the people, but among them.
The crowd cried: โPax veritas! Peace through truth!โ
[The Apostolic Palace, Rome. A televised Vatican address. The curtains part. The Young Pope appears, stern but glowing. Behind him, a man of deep convictionโFather Sebastian from Haitiโawaits his name.]
Pope Pius XIII (Lenny Belardo):
โThe hour is late, and the Church has wandered in the wilderness too long. We need fire, not incense. We need truth, not etiquette. And we need a pope from the people.
From the mountains of Haiti rises a priest of thunder, a shepherd of sorrow, a healer who walks barefoot where angels fear to tread.
I name Father Sebastian of Our Lady of Fatimaโฆ Pope Gelasius the Second.
[Gasps from the College of Cardinals. A few faint. One clutches his rosary like a weapon.]
โAnd he comes not empty-handedโbut with the gold of Revelation 3:18. Not the gold of bankers, but the gold of prophecy. Not Wall Street’s gold. Godโs gold. Iridiumโpure, untouchable, forged in heaven’s fire and buried in the Haitian earth like a covenant.
And unlike the merchants who hoard, Pope Gelasius II will tithe. Ten percent of every gram, every ingot, every cosmic crumb of this gold shall go to the poor. Or perhapsโhe will split it. Croatian style. Fifty-fifty. Half to Rome. Half to the streets. No offshore. No tricks. Just bread and medicine.
The time of white lies in white robes is over. Itโs time for black truth in black cassocks.
The Church is no longer for sale. The Church is back.
