I fell asleep with my iPad on my chest…after reading a bunch of whiney comments about the calendar. It wasn’t a deep sleep, as I rarely sleep well when I am bothered by conflict…especially when I am one of the “conflictees!”
“Go back to the Gregorian Calendar!” and “I’m chart challenged!” and “Please…I HATE the new calendar!” Man…seriously? The turmoil of formats dug deep in my psyche!
To say my sleep was restless as I mumbled cranky epithets back into the ether, would be an understatement.
And then, I felt a tap on my shoulder…along with a breath on my neck so cold that I was instantly awake and whipping my head around to see who was bothering me!
I turned and fell back from my chair as my eyes tried to focus on an ethereal form, almost translucent with the aura of light that shone about him.
His hair a deep gray, almost matching the fur trim on his scarlet cloak. His eyes pierced my very soul as his mouth opened to speak…
“Hi. I’m Greg. Wassuuuuup???”
“You’re who? And…what do you mean, wassup?” I replied in a haltingly unsteady voice. “Are you from the turn of the century or something? Are you a bad Bud commercial come to life?” I stammered.
“Uhm…no. Sorry…I was told by Peter to try and speak colloquially to put you at ease. I’m not from the turn of the century…at least this century. In fact, I’m the guy who helped make sense of keeping time in centuries for almost the last five centuries! I’m…”
“Holyfreakinshirt!!! You’re Pope Gregory!!” I screamed.
“Gregory…” the apparition stammered…wincing at the volume of my exhalation. “But to the point, what in the Big Guy’s name do you have against my calendar???”
“They take a long time to do…I’m burned out…” I mumbled with a shrug of my shoulders.
“Hard to do? You’re kidding me…right?” Gregory exclaimed. “In my day, they had to be done by hand…each one lettered…and adorned…by the day and month and year. And we had to start, by doing 1500 years of calendars…1582 to be exact…times twelve! With pen and ink! Quill pens! Ink in little bottles!!! Just so we could have Easter on the same day every year! We had to make them for everyone who could read! How hard do you think that was?”
“Well…I guess it was hard…” I started to say, my face crinkled in empathy.
“You bet it was hard, you simpering, lazy whiner!” Gregory screamed. “And we didn’t have one of these magic boxes that allowed you to copy and paste and save documents with the click of hand block!”
“Hand block? What are you talking about?” I asked.
“That thing you hold and click and bang on the desk.”
“Oh…the mouse??” I replied.
“That’s a mouse? That’s what’s become of vermin in this time? That’s great! In my day vermin carried all sorts of infections and malevolent illnesses!” Greg said, his face wide with wonder.
“Well…these can be responsible of viruses and malware too…” I mumbled. “Look…are you here to bug me about the TSTO Calendars like the rest of the readers on the blog?”
“Grog? Oh…no thanks…I don’t do grog…I’m a Pope. But, if you have some consecrated wine, I could take a little drab,” Greg said, smiling and moving closer.
“No…Blog…not Grog…it’s an electronic communication that…Oh. Never mind. But, I don’t have any wine. Sorry…” I apologized.
“That’s OK. The last time I had too much wine, I forgot to add the right number of minutes for Leap Year, and in 1732, Easter ended up in July, before they figured it out. That was a bad year for Calendar scribes. They tried to form a Union after that…but of course, I was long gone,” Gregory said, his voice trailing off.
“FINE! I’ll do it. Man…these people really expect a lot of a guy who does this stuff for free. But, maybe that’s what you guys in the Pope’s House meant by giving unconditionally and consistently,” I pondered.
“Sure. Right. Yes. That’s what we meant. Let’s not get into anything else that’s been said over the last few hundred years from the Pope’s House. We’ve had some ups and downs…and I don’t want to get off track. Just do both calendars like you used to, and everyone will be happy. There’s a special place in heaven for people like you. If you believed in heaven...” Greg said with a sly smile.
“Wait…what? I’m going to heaven? But when…and how am I going to…”
But, before I could finish…POOF! Greg was gone.
So…let’s not mess around with calendars any more. I don’t want to risk my place in heaven. And I don’t want Old Greg coming back again. I noticed that there are two large bottles of beer, and three hard apple ciders missing from the fridge, with a piece of paper, adorned with single large “G” scrawled in Bar-B-Q sauce.
Greg. What a hoot.
Here are the damnable calendars. In both forms. And if you haven’t figured it out yet…the numbers are relative. They look high…but the rewards are equally high. Tap every 4 hours and you’ll get everything with loads of time to spare.
Here ya go, Greg!
Click the images to enlarge them.
Now…as my friends across the pond say, “Bugger off!” Stop whining.
Or I’ll sic ‘ol Greg on ye! He’s older. and crankier than me!