Too bad I'm on the run from the company, otherwise I could just rejoin it and win this stupid challenge. Instead, I'll have to infiltrate a new evil organization, one without paper.
There's only one organization out there deserving of my time. It's perhaps the meanest, toughest, most powerful organization in the world. It brought us The Crusades, The Inquisition, and the most vile, frail woman I've ever known, Mother Teresa.
Yes. I'm going after The Vatican, Holy Mother Church, Babylon's Prostate.
"But the Catholic Church is not evil," The Haitian pointed out.
"Not evil?" I asked. "An organization controlled by one man in perhaps the biggest hat on the entire planet that tells people not to have sex, not to read Harry Potter and forces them to eat their god once a week isn't evil??"
Having worked in the paper business for so long, I knew a thing or two about document dating (not dinner and a movie dating, historical dating). I put my skills to work on what would become the biggest deception since Global Warming.
My insidious document was sent off with The Haitian and my cheerleaders to the San Diego Natural History Museum. That was the current location of the famed Dead Sea Scrolls.
The Cheerleaders used their grace and acrobatic skills (Hmm...I guess it IS a sport after all) to slip my pseudo-prophecy into the arcane texts. The Haitian then found Emanuel Tov, a leading Dead Sea Scroll scholar. He put his hand on Tov's forehead and plucked out the memory of page three of the Scrolls. I then met with Tov.
"Hello, Dr. Tov," I said. "Did you ever examine page three of the Dead Sea Scrolls?"
"What?" He looked at me hazily. "Uh...you know...I don't remember ever checking page three."
While Tov and his crew retrieved the Scrolls for further examination, and amidst the media hype surrounding this, my henchmen and I went out for pizza. The Haitian took off his shirt and had a Sprite.
After lunch, we saw on the news that recent discoveries have prompted a special meeting of Vatican officials to discuss the future of the Christian faith. This was the moment we would make our move. The Haitian, some cheerleaders and I snuck into the meeting disguised as clergy.
The Pope spoke, "This....prophecy is bad news for the Chruch. The man of whom it speaks could be a grave threat to our control."
One of the not popes asked, "More of a threat than Oprah?"
"Yes," Ratzinger replied, "more of a threat than Oprah!"
The cardinals all gasped.
"But how," the not pope continued, "do we know this man exists?"
"Oh, I exist!" My voice boomed in the great hall as I stood.
The cardinals all gasped again.
"Like, oh our god!" Kandi screamed, disguised as a nun. "Somebody should kill him before he, like, usurps us or some big word like that!"
Another of my incognito cheerleaders rose up and pulled a gun. She fired three blanks at my chest. I fired off the squibs and fell dramatically to the floor.
"Well," Big Hat said, "that takes care of that problem. Now what do we do about Oprah?"
I stood up, and Kandi announced, "He has, like, arisen and stuff!"
Here a gasp, there a gasp, everywhere a gasp gasp.
"He wears horn-rimmed glasses," somebody called out.
Another said, "and he rose from the dead!"
The Pope lifted his gothic staff high above his head and said, "This cannot be the man of prophecy. He does not shoot people."
I pulled my gun and shot the Pope in the knee. I didn't kill him, but it'd be a long time before he'd play soccer again, or whatever it is Popes do.
"The prophecy said he'd shoot people, not just one person."
I shot whoever said that, and a couple altar boys just to make certain it was clear.
The council accepted me as the Prophecized One, and gave me a big hat. "As my first order with the big hat," I declared, "we will blame Canada!"
"For what, your Holiness?"