Part Four
THE SAINTS IN TROUBLE

The Saints were confused and angry that an Atheist was in their midst, but the screamer was not, as expected, poor abused Saint Dymphna, but Saint Augustine, who, of course, had endured mental difficulties all his life.
“Atheist at large . . . tell Barbara . . . condemn . . . to hell,” the Saint muttered as soon as he was able to speak (even the more sophisticated Saints tended to confuse Barbara with God).
“Fat lot of good telling her,” snapped Saint Peregrine Laziosi, whose leg was hurting him more than usual that day. “She put him here in the first place.”
“Why would she do that?” whispered Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, looking around nervously and shifting her bouquet of roses to her breast.
“Because she hoped we would have some influence on him and show him the True Way,” breathed Mother Cabrini, the light of yet another conversion in her eyes.
“Sounds like a crappy Protestant Bible Study group. Bet she found him in a thrift store like us,” sneered Saint Jude, one of the original Apostles known for his cynicism.
There was a short silence; none of them liked a reminder about their origins. They glanced down at the Pope, wrapped around his votive candle. He shook his head reprovingly at Saint Jude but smiled benignly upwards at the Saints, unable to bless them because of no hands; however, they knew he was urging them to cooperate with rather than condemn the Protestant sects, seriously bonkers though most of them were. Saint Willibrord, belligerent as his Luxembourg upbringing allowed, went up to the Atheist and tried to read a passage from his Edict about the bottomless pit waiting for unbelievers. The Atheist was unimpressed and continued his stance, his back to all religions and all faiths and, therefore, all hope for life after death. So, why was there not a Shade, a Tenebrae, a sullen gloom surrounding this unbeliever, rather than the light that seemed to emanate from his presence?