I gave the door five knocks, paused, then

I gave the door five knocks, paused, then knocked three more times. "Password?" said a voice from the other side. "password123" I replied. They really needed a better password. I

could think of a million better passwords than that rubbish. Then again, what more could I expect from my boss. After all, he was only a

to boot. In fact, I booted his ass right out of a bar one night, not long ago, just for being a boring douchebag. For that I was kicked out and sent to work on a chain gang in

the middle of Fuck Nowhere, Wisconsin. Surrounded by murderers, rapists, and Packers fans, I mined that sweet, sweet Wisconsin cheese. I had to escape. Even if it meant

constipation later. It was well worth it. With my cheese-breath and concrete gut, there I sat on a filthy commode, hours later, practicing saying "Wis-CAAAN-sin". WisCANsin.

Whizz. Can. Sin. I had a sneaking suspicion that consuming all that cheese had been a sin. Before long, my housemates got wind of the situation and quickly evacuated.

By the time the Vatican Coucil arrived, I was a blubbering mess sitting on the floor surrounded by my empty cans of cheese whizz. I knew there was no absolving this one so I

started crying that being the pope was not easy, and sinning was my way of unwinding. they had to believe me, I was the pope. It was too easy. I hated religion, I hated the vatican

And all its globalist bulls##t agendas. Once tbe Vatican was abolished, in 2167, the pope was I'm ordinaryvman and became more like a zen monk. The world was peaceful once more.