Another Email from "Padre Ernie"

Maxine:
I promised in my last Email to keep you informed of developments here in Chicago. I think you will be interested in what occurred last night. Earlier in the day I received a call from a nurse I knew at the Elgin Mental Hospital, telling me there was a patient recently admitted for “severe dementia and attempted suicide” who, though barely able to talk, was demanding to see a priest. I rushed over that night, after the nurse told me the patient’s name was “Felix Sebastian Culpa.”

The nurse, whose name is Janice, met me at the nurses’ station and filled me in as we walked down the corridor to room 309. They’ve had to keep him heavily sedated since the police brought him in with a court order for committal. The police had already filled in the admission paperwork, signed by the Chief-of-Staff of the hospital.

When I asked if she had seen any I.D., she said no.
“You said you know Mr. Culpa, Father?”
“A little. He played the organ for us on occasion.”
“I’ve got to warn you, Father, this is an extreme case, even for us. He keeps acting out these strange quasi-religious rituals, and wearing his robe like it was a cape. Usually these cases go right to the State Institution, but orders are orders.”

Janice pushed open the door to room309, clearly surprising the patient standing by the barred window, a medal on a chain in one hand, the other stroking his genitals. Startled, he moved behind the chair in his room which he had made into something resembling a makeshift pulpit.

“Mr. Culpa, look who’s come to visit”, the nurse announced.
I looked up and was staring directly at Bishop Bassanni!
“Raynor!!” he hissed, then coughed for a full minute.
“I think he really damaged his vocal cords when he tried to hang himself,”
Janice said, as I noted the rope marks on his neck.
I paused until my heart beat slowed.
“Good Evening, FELIX!” I said with exaggerated warmth.

“NOT FELIX!” he croaked, “BISHOP!!!”
He then started coughing uncontrollably again and paced back and forth, showing his missing ring finger to me and attempting to shout “CULPA, MIA CULPA!”

“Yes, Felix. We’ve all done things we’re sorry for, but God is forgiving. Let me give you my blessing, Felix.”
Bassanni came right up to my face and poked me in the chest. He cleared his throat enough to shout out three words:
“FUCK YOU, RAYNOR!”
With that he collapsed on the bed in another coughing fit, as the orderly rushed in.
“We’d better go, Father,” Janice said firmly. “It’s time for his shot. He’ll be out for quite a while.’
Back at the nurse’s station, Janice handed me an envelope.
“The orderly took this picture of Felix in "Full Bishop Mode":



"This was in the medal he always wears around his neck:"





Maxine, I’m wasting no time in sending you this. I hope this information helps bring you some measure of peace.

Yours in Christ,

Rev. Ernest Raynor
Pastor, St Joseph of Cupertino Parish
Chicago, Il USA