Tales of the Supernatural with Nap Lapkin (Part 2)

Anyway, it was only after a string of these gruesome and supernatural mascot murders started occurring that Nap was asked by his superiors (in name only) to get involved. There were few leads and with the enormous number of mascots inflicting themselves on crowds on every college campus and professional sporting event, all they could do is calculate the body count as the dragon moved westward.

The first thing you might be asking yourself is why a hardened secret agent would believe all of this supernatural tomfoolery. An outstanding question; there’s hope for you yet.

The thing is… it’s not his first go-around with supernatural situations. Allow me to digress a moment and I will let you in on a little secret that nobody outside of Nap knows.

When Nap was a young man, he lived in a variety of orphanages. Having never read Oliver Twist, I can’t say for certain that it gives an accurate portrayal of life as an orphan but I’m led to believe it does not give it a glowing review, with plenty of unscrupulous characters and “Can I have some more?” moments, so if you spent your youth reading Charles Dickens instead of Douglas Adams and PG Wodehouse as I did, you can use that as a jumping off point concerning Nap’s youth.

It was at one of these homes that he ran into something that can only be termed “supernatural.” Although looking at Nap now, it might be tough to believe but when he was twelve he loved nothing more than fishing. He would rise early, slip out of his window and disappear for hours casting his line into some local pond or stream. On the way there, he would do some quick digging and uncover enough worms to make the casting a fruitful exercise. Through the process of trial and error he found that the closer he dug to an old abandoned shed, the larger and more plentiful the worms became until it came to pass he was digging right alongside the rotting lumber that made up its walls. In fact, by this time, he was wondering just how large the worms would be should he venture inside the dilapidated structure and do some digging so he did just that.

The shed’s interior was surprisingly large and dimly lit, the only light coming in through grimy windows and small cracks between the rotting planks that made up its walls. If you are picturing some endearing scene where a young boy is wide-eyed with a naïve mix of fear and curiosity, you are way off. Nap strolled in like he owned the place and went right to work digging.

It didn’t take long until he was looking down at worms of such size that if he were to lower them into the pond on a hook, most of the fish would take one look, shriek a fishy shriek of terror, and throw themselves on shore. Snakes would give these worms a wide berth.

Nap was soon looking down on a squirming black mass of worms the likes of which usually appear in bad horror movies. Sitting in the middle of these hellish Lumbricus terrestris was a black mummified face. Half buried, he could make out its unnecessarily creepy non-arthropod invertebrate making its way out through the mouth.

Even at the tender age of twelve, Nap would have typically heard the sinister man sneaking up behind him but you’ll forgive him if he was momentarily distracted by the site of the mummified face opening its eyes and staring right at the young man.

You wanted supernatural? You’ve got it in spades! This shed reeked of supernaturalness.

And the mummy is only the start of it. Unknowingly, Nap had stumbled into a shed containing the long-lost Amulet of Osiris, a piece of jewelry that legend suggested would give its bearer not only power over life and death but limitless wealth and influence. A fact that the man sneaking up behind Nap was keenly aware of.

Now anyone but Nap Lapkin would have been rendered unconscious by a swift blow to the back of the head and thus would have begun an epic story of Nap searching the globe to avenge this violent affront to his skull and recover the artifact. But nope… no such luck for this storyteller. I can’t seem to catch a break.

While it’s true that he was momentarily distracted by the mummy eyes popping open, he quickly recovered and realized there was someone approaching from his rear with ill-intent.

He quickly scooped up a rusted garden implement and drove it up through the man’s jaw and into his brain. He then kicked some dirt over the mummy’s face and departed the shed to go fishing.

Later, authorities found the body and decided it might be best if Nap moved on to another group home. Nap never said a word to anyone about what had happened and the shed, the mummy and the long-lost Amulet of Osiris were later bulldozed over to make way for a strip mall. A strip mall that ironically housed an Egyptian restaurant whose food was so good that some people said it was to die for.

If I’m giving Nap a back story, I’d better pony up for Madonna… so here goes. There are almost eight hundred female Saints in the Catholic faith but the little gold medallion hanging around Madonna’s neck doesn’t signify one of those. The serene face emblazoned on it is a touch more obscure. If you have any understanding of the religion at all it’s easy to see why.

Sister Charity and her miraculous vagina.

Back in seventh century Italy, she was well-known for the healing gifts bestowed upon her and her woman parts. For reasons that nobody was ever able to figure out, anyone inside her at the moment of her orgasm would immediately be cured of any ailment. She was the original “pity fuck.”

After word spread of her amazing power, men traveled from every corner of the globe to be with her. Cripples and lepers waited outside her home waiting for a shot at her wondrous nether regions.

Obviously this put the church in an awkward position as the magisterium clearly states that sexual pleasure is morally disordered when sought for itself, isolated from its procreative and unitive purposes. Nowhere did the good book state it was ok to bang the blindness out of a guy or hump the hump off a hunchback.

Sister Charity grappled with this conflict all of her days, wondering why her God would give her a healing gift that seemed to damn her to hell. She appeared to literally be taking one for the team… and by one I mean no less than one hundred and sixty documented miracles. And by team I mean the roughest group of suitors you could ever imagine. And to make each miracle happen, Sister Charity had to climax.

Nobody ever asked her what she was thinking about when some obese fevered retard was plowing away that allowed her to cum, but if it wasn’t the hand of God working between her sweaty thighs, I’d be hard pressed to come up with another explanation.

The church never saw it that way. Although her name made its way all the way up to the pope, she was never granted sainthood. Madonna always thought that Catholic view of sexuality was both cruel and arbitrary.

Just the way she liked her lovers.