The story continues with Father Allen and his hip flask...
The Magic Gate (15)
“I rather think, Father,” said Sister Sara, as she finished her drink, “we are a bit lost.”
“Not at all,” said Father Allen. “If I go back round this side of the tree, there is the door to the bus stop.”
“The drink must’ve gone to your head, Father,” said the Sister. “Who’s got the map?”
“Don’t need a blinking map, just follow me nose,” came back the Father, tapping the said appendage.
“You’ve only been following me for the last three miles ‘cos I’ve got the lemons.”
“Exactly, I’ve been following the yellow pip road.”
Father Allen’s voice rose in a sing song way and he chuckled.
“Oh, father, you are one! Come on. Let’s go find the bus stop. It can’t be far.”
She got up and gave the Father her hand.
Together they staggered round the tree with Sister Mary hiccupping behind them. But to no avail. There was no blinking bus stop. Instead, there were two burly men dragging a hospital bed. Another man was in the blinking bed, moaning away.
“Don’t leave me here to die,” he cried.
“Oh, mate, nice timing!” came back one of his burly helpers. “Here’s the vicar to read the last rites.”
His friend laughed.
“Strewth, mate. It’s nuns on the run.”
“How dare you!” cried Sister Sara.
Father Allen looked amused.
“What are you boys doing here?” he said.
“On a quest for the amber nectar of eternal life!”
“You are fortunate, my son. I have it right here,” he said, producing the hip flask of Hendricks.
“Steady on, Father!” said Sister Mary, who had collected herself from her hiccupping. “That’s for us. Not those sinners!”
The Magic Gate (15)
By Peter & Paul
Image: derivative of Mlle Rhea with flask, public domain.
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