Splits in Catholicism

It looked like the longest alley in the world,

Beckoning me, daring me, challenging me.

My opponent is Pope Francis, SJ and Awesome Bowler--Who knew?

Both in top form, we each strike nine times

And head into the tenth frame.

But my opponent is Pope Francis, SJ, and AB.

My ball is clear acrylic, with a skull in the center, badass.

His, also acrylic, with the head of Jesus in the center, badderass.

Jesus and the skull have rolled, topsy-turvy, with deceptive spins, as skulls and Jesus' often do.

My skull has landed each time on the maple, and rolled on pine to the pins;

Jesus has landed on the maple as well, his head rolling down the pine to His pins.

For nine frames, ten pins fell like scruples--or Apostles--depending.

I cast a look at Frank as he throws his first of the tenth frame, and he and Jesus create a 7-10 split;

I cackle in religious ecstasy as I take my skull in hand and toss it artfully onto the landing maple.

My ecstasy turns into damnation as I, too, see a 7-10 split, and Francis simply mutters, "Split happens, my child."

We're in different alleys, different paths in life, me with my skull and him with his Jesus.

So we're each on our own to pick up the spare.

I regard my skull with its perennial grin; he looks devotedly at his Jesus.

He makes a sign of the cross before assuming his stance,

And I say, "Hey, Your Holiness--dude! That ain't fair."

And the head of Jesus remedies the schism by taking out the two remaining Apostles.

I hold my ball, and he says, "It's fair: you can cross yourself, too, my child."

"Yea," I answer, but who's He gonna listen to."

And Frank just smiles and shakes his head.

I take my three steps and my wrist torques perfectly, I like it.

My skull would be head-over-heels if it had heels, but it rolls true.

And hits the 7-pin perfectly, launching it ballistically at the 10.

Frank makes the sign of the cross again, because the 10-pin is struck

But wobbles tentatively. I won't do it. I won't cross myself. I'll show him...and Him!

And the 10-pin teeters uncertainly, leaving me in Purgatory until...

It stands fast, a lone defiance that enshrines my failure.

I cry.

And Frank says, "You just needed faith in yourself...dude."

Purgatory is over; I just woke up in Hell.

"It's just a game," Frank tells me.