CHAPTER FIVE
The Pope approached the skylight on the gravel covered roof. He looked down through the yellowing glass. The crab sat at his desk, stroking the silver rosary seductively.

Just as the Pope was about to break out the glass, he heard footsteps behind him.

"Turn around nice and slow, Your Holiness, real easy now."

The Pope turned around. The hoodlum had a gun in each hand and both were pointed straight at the Pope's head.

"Ah, I see you still haven't learned." the Pope said.

The hood drawled, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about mending your ways. Don't you know, my son, that crime doesn't pay."

"Heh heh..." the hoods face twitched as he laughed. "It's paid for me so far. And anyway, save the dime store philosophy for the gum wrappers, Your Eminence. No offense."

The Pope lowered his hands and smiled gently. "None taken."

He began to make the sign of the cross. Suddenly, the Pope kicked up a huge cloud of dusty gravel in the hood's face and quickly jumped out of the way. The hood screamed and fired the guns into the air over and over until they were empty.

One of the bullets ricocheted off the building and blew a chunk out of the hood's arm.

"Oh shucks, that smarts." the hood exclaimed.

The Pope finished making the sign of the cross and ran towards the ventilation shaft. He somersaulted down the shaft and hit the metal floor with a dull thud.