Last week, I was enjoying Sweet Freedom in Buenos Aires... and now I'm trapped in the Vatican. I'd found myself under the hot Argentinian sun, blazing and disoriented. Earlier I'd tried to go to the Klimpiteria's annual Shrimpfest, but was kicked out for being high by the manager, Jesús. Finally I made it to the subway, and sat down next to a group of cardinals. I'd told them my story and asked them for directions back to my caravan, when all of a sudden they turned on me. One of the cardinals threw a damp cloth over my mouth, and before I knew it, I was riding in a vehicle full of shouting Italians with a burlap sack over my head. They told me to get in this ridiculous white suit. I tried to tell them, I don't even know what a sacrament is! But they just shoved me into what they called the "crying room" - I swear it had half of Lucille's wardrobe in there. Then they forced me at shiv-point to go out on a balcony, and told me to smile or else. And that's why you never tell a posse of hot cardinals that Jesús said you were higher than the Mother Theresa!



