Hey, Pope Francis. Where you going?
“I’m-a gettin’ outta da way. Ooh, is-a big-a storm.”
I didn’t know you were in Florida.
“Si, si. Take-a da vacation. Recharge-a da batteries.”
Was it relaxing?
“Oh, si. Read-a da books. Sat by-a da pool. Hang with-a da boys.”
You know Pitbull?
“Signore Worldwide? Si, si. Better Catholic than-a he is a rapper.”
Well, that’s not tough.
“Si, si. He’s-a no Jigga Man.”
True that. Wait. Are you carrying your own bag?
“Of course! Who’s-a gonna do it?”
Literally anyone else. You’re the Pope.
“No, no. I-a carry. It keeps-a me humble. Besides, I got-a some sinful things in-a here.”
Your Holiness! What could you have?
“I got-a da Elena Ferrante books.”
She’s a genius.
“No one writes-a better about-a da female friendships.”
That’s what I hear. Anything else?
“I stole-a da robe from-a da hotel.”
Oh, Your Holiness.
“I couldn’t help-a myself.”
Was it white?
“Si, si. That’s-a my color.”
Anything else you’d like to confess?
“I got-a da nuclear codes in here, too.”
The Vatican has nukes?
“Shh. Don’t-a tell no one. Especially Benedict.”
Why does the Vatican have nukes?
“Who else you gonna trust with-a da nukes?”
I guess, maybe. Where do you keep the missiles?
“Why-a you think we got-a so many obelisks?”
“You didn’t buy-a dat Illuminati garbage, did-a you?”
“You’re-a smarter than that.”
“Si, si. I-a forgive you.”
Thank you, Your Holiness. Hey, uh, before you leave? Wanna throw me a little prayer here?
“Like in-a da first Rocky?”
Hey, Irma: Miss ’em!”
Good prayer, Your Holiness.
“Is-a what I do.”