Rubber Johnny was a happy little latex condom who wore a shiny foil jacket. He looked very smart in it. He knew one day he'd have to take it off and do his rubbery duty, but for now he just hung out in a leather wallet looking dapper and alluring. He knew that some people weren't too partial for him and his kind. But for the most part he was proud of the job they were doing for the human race. He knew all about HIV and unwanted pregnancies so thus he saw his eventual destiny much as a soldier might see going for war - it was gruesome, yes, but it was all for a cause he believed in.
One day, however, he overheard an M&S receipt telling a Domino's voucher talking about him, and about some guy called The Pope. Apparently, this Pope guy didn't like him much. Wanted to abolish him, in fact. The horror! The repression! What about HIV and unwanted pregnancies? This man must be stopped, thought Rubber Johnny. And I'm the one to do it! For Humanity! For Condomkind!
So he whispered in the Lloyd's TSB credit card's ear, telling her to tempt their owner into buying tickets to Rome. Not hard, for her; their owner was very easily persuaded by her flat and shiny wiles (in fact, they called him 'The Spender'). Four weeks later the owner and his girlfriend headed off on a Rome-antic weekend that was totally The Spender's idea because he was so romantic.
Anyway, on the Sunday, as planned, Rubber Johnny peeped out of a trouser pocket to see he was in Vatican city, and that The Pope was giving his Sunday reading from a high window. Johnny asked a kindly Roman pigeon to give him a lift up there and, seconds later, he landed softly on The Pope's Bible.
"Oi!" said Johnny. "Why do you hate me?"
The Pope didn't react. He just calmly slipped him up his sleeve, and carried on with his reading. He barely batted an eyelid. Perhaps he didn't realise what I am, thought Rubber Johnny.
Oh but he did; for when the reading was finished, the Pope pulled out his fat Hermes wallet and slipped Johnny into it with a chuckle. He was going to cry out in shock, but he was suddenly hushed by rustly voices around him. Voices that sounded like his own. He wasn't the only condom in this wallet.
When he thought about it, he wasn't entirely surprised.
I am going to write a story of some variety, long or short, fictitious or factual, every single day for a year. Wish me luck.
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