The echo of high heeled boots bounced off of the walls in the near ancient halls of a Mexican Monastery. It was a special place provided by a combination of funding from The Vatican and the Mexican government itself to provide a resting community for retired Priests and Nuns. Upon reaching a very specific door, a tall, young woman, clad head to toe in leather gear, wrapped gently on its ancient wood.

An elderly woman in the garb of a Nun opened the door and her face was instantly a mask of confusion. This biker-clad young person seemed completely out of place in that corridor.

“May I help you?”, she offered with a distinct British accent.

“Not really, except to show me to Father Barringer, I need to speak to him, it’s really a pressing matter, one could even say life and death.”, The young woman answered, both informative and cryptic.

“And whom shall I say is calling Miss…”, The old nun asked.

“Tell him its Bethsaida Morales, or better yet tell him ‘Pinky’ is here to see him.

A moment or two later the elderly woman returned and guided Betsy through a series of hallways that ended in a large chamber where Father Barringer, now retired, sat before a pile of books and journals. On the desk before him, was a freshly poured cup of tea, its steam spewing heavenward. A bright, red, apple sat next to it.

            Father Barringer stared at the young woman before him, dressed in black, body-hugging leather, dark hair up in a violent, unnatural style, and sporting several facial piercings.

“Good morning young lady, the years have dulled my mind a bit and so I fear you’ll have to be explicitly clear as to your identity and purpose in coming all this way. Do I know you?”, the wrinkled face was alien yet familiar to Betsy’s eyes. She kept her emotions on a tight rein for the moment.

            “You were the overseeing Priest in charge of a school not far from here, were you not? ‘La Sagrada Hermosa’, boarding school and children’s orphanage. Does that refresh your memory, Sir?”, Betsy offered with a delicate smile. She then sat in the chair before his desk, tired of his lack of manners in offering her a seat.

“Ah yes, you were the one with the brother. The one-eyed boy with the bad dreams. He was a bit younger than you and bit me once. How may I help you today, Ms. Morales?” Father Barringer inquired.

            “I’ve been waiting quite a while to speak to you and find it highly disappointing that you don’t specifically remember me or my nickname, ‘Pinky’. It was the humiliating moniker that the other orphans gave me after you spanked me in front of the class for stealing an apple to feed my little brother. It was the first and ironically least of the many cruel and undignified things that your white collar and Vatican credentials allowed you to perpetrate. But fear not, I’ve come to terms with it. It’s just who you are. In fact, this may be hard to believe, but I’m on your side.”, She said, as she leaned back and crossed her legs on the top of his desk.

            “Young lady, Mrs. Pinky, or what have you. This is highly irregular, and I must insist that you plainly state your purpose or leave this place at once, beginning with the removal of those hideous boots from my desk!”, The old man tried to roar, his ancient frame shaking from the sudden verbal effort.

“Very well, Mr. Barringer. You’ll pardon me if I don’t refer to you as ‘Father’, seeing as you were the antithesis of any such title. I’m here for confession.

“You want to confess?”, Father Barringer asked, a bit confused.

“No, Sir. I’m here for your confession. I want you to confess to the cruel tortures and indignities to which you subjected my brother and I, along with countless other orphans. I want you to confess to selling us to local drug farmers and brothels as slave labor, and most of all I want you to confess to being a sadistic hypocrite in a holy man’s uniform, interested only in the subjugation of children as well as lining your own pockets.”, She poured out in a flat, matter-of-fact tone. She went on. “I’m sure that even you, have read Matthew 7:20, ‘By their fruits you will know them’?” That Biblical quote sent the shadow of fear crawling across Father Barringer’s face, as he found himself rather unprepared for this scathingly accurate list of accusations.

“Here, this should help.”, Betsy said, allowing herself a light grin.

She then removed her left leather glove and placed it on the desk. A moment later, an odd, quite inexplicable thing, began happening. Her hand’s pinky finger detached and floated from her, touching the red apple that sat on the old priest’s desk. It then gently floated back and reattached to her hand. Father Barringer’s confusion and shock could not be masked. The apple shook, sprouted four legs, slitted, yellow, snake-like eyes, and a row of razor-sharp teeth. It then ran across the desk toward the now terrified man of the cloth. In a state of sheer panic, his trembling lips blurted out the word “Heresy!”, right before it reached his neck. The now animated apple bared teeth and took a sharp bite out of his wrinkled neck, sending blood spewing in all directions as he began spasming and whipping his limbs about.

            A few minutes later, his lifeless eyes were staring at the ceiling. Pinky stood and walked around the desk. She stopped and stared at the lifeless husk before her, thereafter making the sign of The Cross. “I hereby accept your confession and absolve you of your sins”. She then left the apartment and monastery, intent on visiting the next client on her list. It was extensive.