Bergoglio, whose belly was pressing against his white cassock, had popped open two buttons, revealing a portion of his pale stomach and a peek of his underwear. Struggling to fasten them again, he sighed in frustration. Father Pain-in-the-Sack approached.

Father Pain-in-the-Sack: "Holiness, would you like me to fetch a needle and thread? I could stitch them up for you."

Bergoglio pointed at his own belly.

Bergoglio: "If you can just close the buttons, that’ll do."

After several attempts, Father Pain-in-the-Sack gave up.

Father Pain-in-the-Sack: "It won’t work, Holiness, unless you manage to suck in your stomach."

Bergoglio: "I'll suck in il cazzo!"

Montini, always polite and eager to help, offered his assistance.

Bergoglio: "Ma vaffanculo e vai a farti fottere, you too."

Bergoglio grumbled, then sighed.

Bergoglio: "Damn, I’m starving."

Montini: "At your stage, that’s normal."

Bergoglio: "What stage? Explain."

Roncalli: "I’ll explain, I’ll explain! When you die, you carry a lot of desires with you, and sometimes it takes centuries to forget them. Up in Heaven, it’s not a big deal, but here on Earth, it’s torture. Want proof? Hey, Montini, want a cigarette?"

Montini started salivating.

Montini: "Where? Where is it?"

Roncalli: "See, Bergoglio? But the thing is, I’m starving too."

Roncalli looked around until he spotted Father Pain-in-the-Sack.

Roncalli: "Guido, get us something to eat."

Guido: "I don’t know how, Father. I don’t have my credentials to access the inner quarters where the kitchen is."

Roncalli: "Che cazzo è una credenziale?"

Bergoglio: "I’ll explain, I’ll explain! Leave it to me. It’s an identification card, like an ID, that grants access to certain areas of the Vatican. For example, the Sistine Chapel requires a special credential, and access to the tombs requires another one. And so on."