The Guns of St. Hilda's
By CaptainCorc with technical advice from Diana the Valkyrie


Father Charles Francis Patrick O'Malley, having completed successful 
tenures at St. Dominic's and St. Mary's, received his reassignment to 
St. Hilda's with his usual good humor and grace.  Unfortunately, he 
also received it with his usual lackadaisical approach to detail and, 
with his golf bag slung over his shoulder, wound up at the wrong St. 
Hilda's.  When he was greeted by a huge, muscle bound nun with a rather 
weighty piece of pig iron in her hands, he probably should have pulled 
up short and reevaluated the situation, but with the unquestioning 
obedience of the devout he merely took his slender pipe out of his 
mouth and (without removing the straw hat placed at a jaunty angle 
because he didn't care to reveal his balding pate) said:

"Sister I extend the most cordial and solicitous salutations and--"

"You're a priest!" blurted the brawny nun.  "Holy Cow!  There hasn't 
been a priest around here since Hilda herself ran the place."

At this point, Father O'Malley should have definitely tumbled to the 
fact that something wasn't quite right.  Even in such a wilderness as 
England it's unusual for a parish to go without a priest for an 
extended period and though Father O'Malley was not reknowned as a 
Church scholar, he was aware that the original Hilda had not been 
around in corporeal form for about 1300 years.  But before he could 
raise a question or even an eyebrow, the burly nun was hustling him 
inside and calling loudly for Sister Mary Rose.  This resulted in the 
appearance of an even larger nun who scowled at the unlikely pair until 
silence prevailed.  Soon there appeared an inquisitive pair of 
uniformly enormous nuns bearing sundry heavy articles such as 
millstones and diesel engine blocks and the usually garrulous Father 
O'Malley was dumbstruck, if not awestruck.  The only similarity he was 
able to note between these behemoths and the nuns of his previous 
experience was their mode of locomotion.  They glided.  There was some 
comfort in that, but their extraordinary size was daunting and the 
normally free swinging Father O'Malley felt them drawing up, as it 
were, as he wondered about the quality of the water in this place.

An awkward period ensued.  Musing again on the water, Father O'Malley 
had to regretfully dismiss it as the cause of such tremendous growth.  
He had heard of water containing high mineral content causing unusually 
large antlers in certain deer populations, but these sisters showed no 
evidence of antlers.  It must be something else.  Too bad, too.  It had 
flashed through his mind that bottled, such water could be a gold mine 
for Mother Church, not to mention the parish of St. Hilda's.  For their 
part, the sisters coolly regarded the new arrival with such obvious 
curiosity one would have thought they had never seen a priest before.  
Of course, one would have been correct--but Father Charles Francis 
Patrick O'Malley had no way of knowing that.

"I am Sister Mary Rose, Mother Superior of the convent of St. Hilda's," 
said the scowling mountain of a nun.  "And she who grips you gently--
though you may not think it so--is Sister Nora and I wish to state that 
if Sister Nora raises such a caterwaul again she will have much to 
atone for as if she didn't already for the love of God.  These gentle 
sisters you see arrayed behind me are Sisters Diana and Mandy."

"Mandy?" inquired Father O'Malley.

"Amanda, if you please Father." said the indicated mass of a sister.

"Not Amanda Ignatius or even Clarence Amanda?"

"No Father."

"There are 24 other nuns in the convent of St. Hilda's, Father--if you 
really are a Father and if you're not may the saints preserve you for 
nothing else shall," continued Sister Mary Rose.  "However, they are 
restricted to their cells for literary reasons--er, make that vows.  
Now, just who in the name of the Blessed Virgin are you?"

But Father O'Malley was caught up in a sister called Mandy and was 
busily engaged in scratching the back of his head and whistling soft 
and sweet.

"How does that go?  Hmmmm," mused Father O'Malley.  Then he suddenly 
realized he was ignoring the Mother Superior which was not only rude 
but positively dangerous.  

"Forgive me, Sister Mary Rose," he said.  "But it's a rare thing when I 
can't remember a song and if I can't bring 'Mandy' to mind, I'll be 
hard pressed to explain how I ended up in a convent, the reasoning 
being you see that if I can't recall something I know I know how am I 
to evolve a rationale for something I am completely in the dark about?"

Sister Mary Rose's stoney face creased just slightly around the eyes at 
this and her demeanor softened by a single barely perceptible degree.  
"Well, Father, let's take it step by step."

"Well, the archbishop instructed me to report to the Parish of St. 
Hilda's and I just picked the first St. Hilda's that showed up in the 
roster.  Could be I should have looked a little closer."

"Oh, well, I see the problem," said Sister Diana behind a deceptively 
sweet smile.  "This isn't a parish, it's a deanery."

"In a shire," chirped Sister Amanda.

"No, the shire's in the deanery," proffered Sister Nora.  "Isn't it?"

"How could it be?" Sister Amanda objected. "The deanery is just part of 
the village and the shire is almost as big as a county."

"Shires are never as big as a county and besides we're talking about 
the deanery and look at all the deans everywhere so it has to be bigger 
than the village at least," said Sister Nora.

"Just because there are deans everywhere doesn't mean they're in the 
deanery," stated Sister Diana.

"Oh, yeah?" countered Sister Amanda

"Not *this* deanery," insisted Sister Diana.

"What do you mean *this* deanery?"

"It could be *that* deanery."

"Which deanery?"

"That deanery.  As a matter of fact, I'm sure it's that deanery."

"Which?"

"Another one."

"What in the Blessed name of the Blessed Virgin are you talking about?  
This deanery that deanery.  I think we should be a parish and have a 
priest.  Maybe the bishop wasn't being arch at all."

"Sister Amanda!!  Thou renegade nun.  Take it back," demanded Sister 
Mary Rose.

"I take it back.  It was a bit much wasn't it?"

"Well, I should say so," said Sister Diana looking as if butter 
wouldn't melt in her mouth, as the saying goes.

"So help me, Diana, I'll blessed well--"

"Enough of this," interjected Sister Mary Rose.  Father O'Malley was 
reloading his pipe.  Sister Nora slipped him a small earthenware vial 
and whispered "Try this."

"Forgive me, Mother Superior.  But sometimes Sister Diana is such a 
smarty surplice I could give her a pinch."

"But Mandy, it's true," said Sister Diana demurely.  "There's the 
Borchester Deanery and the Pistwhistle Deanery and the Opthamol Deanery 
and the--"

"Give it up, Diana.  If the Crown can't figure it out what makes you so 
sure you can?"

"Sisters!!  Enough! Pistwhistle?"

"I'm sure it's Pistwhistle."

"Nevermind. Our guest has yet to introduce himself."

Father O'Malley was slightly bugeyed from puffing on whatever was in 
that vial Sister Nora gave him, but he gathered himself up to 
apologize.

"I beg your pardon, Mother Superior and may his Holiness rain 
beneficence upon you if he can drag himself out of bed.  My name is 
Charles Francis Patrick O'Malley, priest, baseball coach, chorale 
director and raconteur and I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance."

Sister Mary Rose's eyes widened at this.  "Father O'Malley?  Of St. 
Dominic's?  St. Mary's?"

"The same."

"Well I'll be blowed.  I mean...Holy Cow.  I have all your records and 
that's saying something.  Well, *I* don't have them of course.  St. 
Hilda's has them thanks to the charity of certain penitents. But anyway 
I'm afraid you just wouldn't fit into our operation here.  We are a 
unique order and our methods are our own.  And while it's true that 
Hilda began with a double monastery, over the years it was discovered 
that our mission functioned better if it was practiced exclusively by 
women at least once we got the hang of it.  I would explain, but I have 
my duties to attend to as do these other Sisters.  I will leave you 
with Sister Diana and she will give you more details.  Good day to you, 
Father O'Malley."

"Good day to you, Sister Mary Rose and thank you."

Father O'Malley was left with Sister Diana as the other nuns glided off 
to their chores.

"Father O'Malley I hope you don't mind my asking but isn't a bit 
unusual for a priest to wear a straw boater?"

"I have a dispensation," replied Father O'Malley and he produced his 
note from the Pope from a compartment in his golf bag and handed it to 
Sister Diana.

"Even so," said Sister Diana, as she checked out his bona fides. "Isn't 
it usual to remove your hat indoors and in the presence of nuns?"

"I have an indulgence," answered Father O'Malley.  "It's in a post 
script on the dispensation."

"So it is.  Very well then.  Mother Superior wants you to know more 
details, and though that surprises me more than somewhat, I'm willing 
to oblige.  Make yourself comfortable."

And so, while Father O'Malley reloaded his pipe from the small 
earthenware vial Sister Nora had given him, Sister Diana proceeded to 
relate the mission of St. Hilda's and the methodology employed in 
fulfilling it.  At points, the normally unflappable Father O'Malley was 
a bit flapped as evidenced by his raising eyebrows, but he heard her 
out to the end without interruption.  When she had finished, she folded 
her hands primly and beamed at him wickedly.

"Guns?"

For an answer, Sister Diana flexed a mighty right arm.

"Scissors?  Armwrestling?  Squeezes and smooshing?"

"For the good of their souls."

"Well, sister, as one who has been known to employ an unorthodox method 
or two myself, I must say I'm impressed.  I can see how effective it 
all must be, but just between us--is it Kosher?"

"The Church does allow some latitude in the pursuit of salvation, as 
you well know, Father," said Sister Diana with a smile and a finger to 
her lips.  "And if you will allow me a small demonstration, I can give 
you an idea of how persuasive our good works can be."

She reached out and took one of his hands and applied a bit of 
pressure--just the tiniest bit.  Just enough to make him yelp softly 
and hope to St. Jude she was not now and never would be in earnest.
His first impulse was to withdraw his hand, but at the first small 
effort to do so, Sister Diana gripped slightly harder and shook her 
head.

"There is no turning away from the Light," she said, as she released 
him.

"So I see," replied Father O'Malley, wincing.  "And may I say without 
offense that if you ever weary of the sisterhood I could easily obtain 
a situation for you in Detroit as a machine press punching out bonnets 
for the Ford Motor Company."

"Oh, I would never leave the Order, Father O'Malley.  There are so many 
souls to be saved and it is my calling after all."

"Well, Sister, I can see that you have the situation here well in hand 
and I suppose I should be seeing about locating the St. Hilda's that 
I'm actually assigned to."

As Sister Diana was escorting the good father to the exit, a giggling 
Sister Amanda appeared.

"Father," she said.  "Mother Superior would like to say goodbye to you.  
If you would be good enough to bring Father O'Malley to the chapel, 
Diana...I have to go."  Mandy glided quickly away, still giggling.

When Sister Diana opened the door to the chapel, Father O'Malley saw a 
familiar tableau and couldn't help but smile and improvise some lyrics 
for the scene which would follow quickly.  Sister Mary Rose, seated at 
the organ smiled back.  Sisters Nora and Amanda were just behind their 
Mother Superior peering at the sheet music.  Sister Mary Rose hit a 
chord and the three nuns like sweetly ringing bells went "bing, bing, 
bing bing, bing bi-ing bing".  And knowing a musical setup like no one 
else in the Church, Father O'Malley made his way to the organ, leaned 
on it casually facing the nuns and right on cue began to sing in a 
resplendent baritone which enveloped the room, the nuns and their 
beautiful pealing accompaniment like a soothing hug, sang:

"The guns of St. Hilda's, ah see they are bulging
So mighty and stalwart they never will fail.
And nuns in their good deeds will soon be indulging
But please don't squeeze us
We give--Jesus
Hail, hail, hail"

"Bing bong," sang the nuns.

"Yes leave 'em rickety
Sic Maledicti
Hail, Hail, Hail."

And when the sisters had binged their way through the progression to 
the tonic, Father O'Malley pegged the tag:

"Won't you flex dem guns."

And, amid good feeling shared by all except Sister Diana, who was 
slightly confused by the proceedings, Father O'Malley left St. Hilda's 
with the parting promise to Mother Superior.

"Sister Mary Rose, if you ever decide to mount a revue or any such 
clambake, you just dial O--for O'Malley and I'll come on the jump."