Jorge and the Quest for Saint Ignatius' Sword
It was a night of no importance when Jorge thought, “There existed a sword once upon a time in history, owned by the famed Ignatius de Loyola, bastard saint and holy shite. And I say! It has to be mine, by hook, or by crook!” And so he set off, with his limbs flailing and twisting under the moonless sky—all while shouting his battle chant: “SORRY I CAN’T UNDERSTAND YOUR ENGLISH!”
After a while he came upon a huge patch of greenery. He ran four times in circles just for the heck of it. “I love the smell of grass in the morning!” It wasn’t morning. This is the point where it is safe to say that Jorge has at least one screw loose from his head.
At last, following his random frolicking round and about places that no sane person would venture, his eyes fell (OUCH!) upon the statue of St. Ignatius and the sword it was holding. Thrice he walked on tip-toes around the altar while repeating the words: “San Igno, San Igno, pahinging piso!”
Then he went home. What a fun experience for Jorge. He wanted to do it again. He most certainly will.
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