EEEEK! I was in the shower!!
Shoulda used that curtain, Eve. 
Why am I getting a vision of an Animal House remake, with the pontiff as Bluto?
Oh please, like any of you wouldn’t want the pope checking you out while you are showering, running his popey eyes all up and down your wet, dripping body. What would be a bigger thrill? Come on, he is THE POPE!
Sorry that was me. I’m expecting to elected Pope soon and I was trying out my uniform.
I was thinking more the scene in Life of Brian 
Eve, I had to do a double take when I saw your name on this thread. Welcome back! Your humor has been missed here.
Phew—turns out it was just a cardinal.
Well that’s not so bad, they’re a sign that spring’s coming! Don’t you feel better now?
Well, stay away from him. You know what they say about cardinal sin.
Hmmm … then again …
There’s a cardinal at my window right now! He’s eating something nasty he dug out of my backyard.
But a cardinal isn’t nearly as impressive as a Pope, Eve!
Shoulda stuck with the original story 
. . . Especially when he was dangled out over the balcony by Michael Jackson . . .
Eve’s back! Eve’s back!
::throws confetti in the air, passes around the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream pints::
Kinda off topic …
Hey, Eve, didn’t I hear somewhere that you own a haunted vase?
Hmmm…could be Richelieu. Ask him if he persecuted the Huguenots.
Richelieu is dead, silly!
Or is that just what they want us to believe? :dubious:
This time, I remembered I was lying in the oak closet, and I heard distinctly the gusty wind, and the driving of the snow; I heard, also, the fir bough repeat its teasing sound, and ascribed it to the right cause: but it annoyed me so much, that I resolved to silence it, if possible; and, I thought, I rose and endeavoured to unhasp the casement. The hook was soldered into the staple: a circumstance observed by me when awake, but forgotten. ‘I must stop it, nevertheless!’ I muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, and stretching an arm out to seize the importunate branch; instead of which, my fingers closed on the fingers of a little, ice-cold hand! The intense horror of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, ‘Let me in - let me in!’ ‘Who are you?’ I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself. ‘John Paul,’ it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of John Paul? I had read POPE twenty times for John Paul) - ‘I’m come home: I’d lost my way on the moor!’ As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a fat face looking through the window. Terror made me cruel; and, finding it useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes: still it wailed, ‘Let me in!’ and maintained its tenacious gripe, almost maddening me with fear. ‘How can I!’ I said at length. ‘Let ME go, if you want me to let you in!’ The fingers relaxed, I snatched mine through the hole, hurriedly piled the books up in a pyramid against it, and stopped my ears to exclude the lamentable prayer. I seemed to keep them closed above a quarter of an hour; yet, the instant I listened again, there was the doleful cry moaning on! ‘Begone!’ I shouted. ‘I’ll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty years.’ ‘It is twenty years,’ mourned the voice: ‘twenty years. I’ve been a waif for twenty years!’ Thereat began a feeble scratching outside, and the pile of books moved as if thrust forward. I tried to jump up; but could not stir a limb; and so yelled aloud, in a frenzy of fright. To my confusion, I discovered the yell was not ideal: hasty footsteps approached my chamber door; somebody pushed it open, with a vigorous hand, and a light glimmered through the squares at the top of the bed. I sat shuddering yet, and wiping the perspiration from my forehead: the intruder appeared to hesitate, and muttered to himself. At last, he said, in a half-whisper, plainly not expecting an answer, ‘Is any one here?’ I considered it best to confess my presence; for I knew Heathcliff’s accents, and feared he might search further, if I kept quiet. With this intention, I turned and opened the panels. I shall not soon forget the effect my action produced.
Just pray that it isn’t Fang or Biggles, or things could wind up being very…comfy.
That’s when Cardinal Richelieu impersonators come in handy!