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“Be patient, darling heart” said the Bishop, although he had to admit that his heart wasn't in it. Neither was any other part of his anatomy. After a gymnastic tour de force the previous night he was totally fucked. Ironic, he mused, I am both the fucker and the fuckee.

He addressed the computer:


Sir,

Thank you for your letter. You cannot believe how good it is to have the contents of my message duly noted rather than dully noted. I was getting paranoid.

I am most agreeable to Mrs Mobutu meeting me in Australia. Travel to London has been most unsuccessful to date and a body change of plans will be good for us all. Will you be coming as well?

As can only be expected the two families, and indeed the entire monastic community, are in deep shock of the two tragic deaths.

I am most willing to complete the transaction. Partly because I owe it to the two fine men who have died but also I feel that I have have difficulty finding a willing participant, in light of the apparent curse upon the lives of those involved.

“I am waiting...” said the adipose bulk on the bed. The Bishop, engrossed in his letter, missed the hint of menace in the voice. “Just two ticks, snookums!”.

My personal residence is Apartment 964, 502 Victoria Street, North Melbourne, 3051, Victoria. It is actually on the ninth floor and has the most splendid views of the city.

I have attached a scan of the front two pages of my passport.

I have also attached a Letter of Guarantee, as requested.

I am surprised that you want me to pay you in Euros. That is a currency seldom seen in Australia. I am sure that it can be arranged but please confirm that it is necessary. On that subject, as Mrs Mobutu and the money will be coming to Australia, would it be possible to deduct the Euro cash from the overall transaction monies and save the inconvenience of exchanging money?

“I am STILL waiting...”

“Coming...coming...”.

I am most touched at your kind thoughts of giving some of the transaction proceeds to the families of the two Abbots.

You are a true gentleman, Sir, I trust you are well and truly,

Yours ecclesiastically,

Taekes Pawnchek,
Bishop of Chesbord.

The sudden application of a half Nelson drew the Bishop's attention away from the computer.

“Come with me, my blossom,...”


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