Father John Bromley was the paragon of charity, or at least everyone who knew him believed that, and by his reckoning if everyone believed it then it may as well be true.
Father Bromley, sighing deeply, stood at the window and took a swig from his hip flask. "It's never a simple thing," he whispered, "the destruction of a man." A few moments passed when the car he had been waiting for pulled into the driveway. He was reminded of a hearse.
Saying a quick prayer he sat down behind his desk. Despite the strength sitting behind the great oak behemoth usually gave him, he felt, perhaps appropriately, like a little boy waiting to be disciplined.
Below him he heard the door of the proiry creak open and the clickity-clack of Italian heels on the marble floor. Father Bromley straightened his cassock.
Enter Joey Lonza, a sallow man who looked like he would knife his own mother for a couple of bucks. Two men, one of the cloth and one of the underworld, faced each other.
"Please Mr. Lonza, take a seat," Father Bromley began.
"That won't be necessary, Father. This is just a quick visit."
"Very well."
"I think you know why I'm here."
"Yes, yes. Don Adamo wants to know where the money is."
The two men stared at each other. Eventually Joey blinked and gestured for him to go on.
"I gave it to the congregation."
Joey smiled, "Well, that's awfully kind of you Father...," the smile faded, "but that wasn't your money to give." After a moments of silence, Joey began pacing, "I talked to your treasurer. She says you gave away all your savings too." He stopped and faced the priest. "I thought we had an understanding. What, you having a crisis of faith or something?"
Father Bromley could not help but smile, "I guess you could say that."
Joey returned the smile which caused Father Bromley to begin laughing. Joey joined in as well, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a revolver.
Eventually the two laughed themselves out. Father Bromley took off his glasses and cleaned them.
"You're a funny guy, Father. I hate that you're making me do this." He raised the revolver.
"This is good."
YOU ARE READING
365
Short StoryA bizarre collection of short stories inspired by a single word (the title of each chapter). Lengths can vary and most are dark, but some are humorous with a little romance, and slice-of-life sprinkled in (genre in title).
