Never Pluck Your Eyebrows When Drunk [FICTOID]

The pope makes one little slip of the tongue and the next thing you know, every beauty therapist in Rome is inebriated / intoxicated / ringtail drunk.

What the pope meant to say that morning was “Blessed are they who make life beautiful for others” only it came out as “Blessed are they who make others beautiful for life.”

Being the pope, he felt loathe to admit he made a mistake and stood by his blooper (he was, after all, infallible).

The beauty therapists, delighted at the papal blessing, immediately began celebrating, and by early afternoon staggered through the streets of Rome singing boisterously, fighting mock duels in the Coliseum, skinny dipping in the Trevi Fountain, vomiting on the Vatican’s front steps.

That pissed the Jesuits off no end.  “Eh!  Wassa matta you?  Gotta no respect!  And after the pope blessed you!”

“That’s why we’re drinking,” shouted the beauty therapists.  “The pope did us a solid!”

Their regular customers felt irritated; nobody wanted their hair dyed by a staggeringly drunk beauty therapist who might mistake Clorox™ for Claritol™,

A few trusting clients let their therapists pluck their eyebrows; the unfortunate results look like fat caterpillars chasing skinny caterpillars or vice versa. 

Italian lawyers licked their chops at that; the would reap thousands of lira when the beauty therapists sobered up.

Finally the police needed to step in.  They rounded up the riotous revelers, urging them back home with a few judicious swipes of short rubber hoses rather than deal with them a minute longer.  By midnight they drove all the beauty therapists back to their homes.

The pope made no further comment on the spectacle.  Sometimes the best one can do with reality is ignore it.

© Buzz Dixon