Episode transcript - “FORGIVE RED LINE PART 1”
FR. KLEM: Greater Boston! I don’t know what’s so great about it. They got those cheese robots everywhere. And the Red Line is a town, I’ve heard! It’s so ridiculous. Yeah, my, uh… my city bus is going to be ah, uh… a university! Did you see that! Yeah. Oh, crap, we’re recording!
[MUSIC: “Charlie on the MTA”/“Forgive Me! Theme” mashup plays.]
ALEXANDER DANNER: This week: Forgive Red Line Part 1–A Greater Boston/Forgive Me! podcast crossover event!
CHUCK: Forgive. Verb. Stop acting angry or resentful toward someone for an offense or mistake.
MULTIPLE VOICES: Forgive—
Forgive—
Forgive—
Greater Boston!
[Music ends.]
ST. ETHAN’S
[MUSIC: News jingle.]
[SFX: Crowd noise, Red Line trains. Protesters chanting “let us confess.”]
CHUCK: This is Chuck Octagon, reporting for the Underground.
NICHOLE: And I’m Nichole Fonzerelli. We’re live from Andrew station, where Red Line mayor Emily Bespin is about to engage in a ribbon ceremony for Red Line’s first… train… church.
CHUCK: That’s right, Nichole. It’s a real holy roller!
NICHOLE: (Sighs) Chuck…
CHUCK: As with most events in Bespin’s Red Line, there are currently a contingent of displaced Red Lineans protesting their unfair banishment from the city, especially with regards to their inability to enter this new church.
NICHOLE: As you’ll see behind us, there’s a barrier of the mayor’s cheese robots preventing them from entry.
CHUCK: But that’s not all! St. Ethan’s will not only feature the world’s first highly-exclusive roaming place of worship, but also the first automated confessional booth, outfitted with a Legion Assistant, officially ordained and ready to wipe your sins clean in less than two minutes, no matter how serious they might be!
FR. BEN: Excuse me… do… do you mean to say the confessional is… automated?
CHUCK: We are reporting live on TV and radio, my good sir. Please keep your questions to yourself.
FR. BEN: I’m sorry, I’m not from here and this whole… train-city thing has me a little disorientated. As does this church.
NICHOLE: Haha, yes, it’s a bit odd, just like someone walking right into your work and asking inappropriate questions, right?
FR. BEN: Oh, that is my job, actually, or a part of it. See, I’m a priest in a little town called–
CHUCK: Look! There’s Mallory! [Shouting MALLORY! This guy needs some help understanding how a train-city works. That’s Mallory; she’ll help you out, just don’t be a jerk, or, too big of a jerk. Sorry, Your Holiness, we got work to do.
FR. BEN: (Under his breath) “Your Holiness”? That’s just the Pope…
CHUCK: (reporting) And here comes Mayor Bespin herself with the traditional giant set of scissors to do the cutting for Red Line’s brand new God on Wheels!
EMILY: (Microphone squeal) My dear Red Lineans. Today makes a proud occasion, one I hope you show your ever-increasing thanks for. For today marks the occasion that we bring GOD to Red Line, which it so desperately needs. Now some in the gossip rags have dared ask if me and my hallowed, humble honey roll Ethan and I are actually Catholic. To which I say: there is a Saint Emily, isn’t there? But obviously we couldn’t name the cathedral Saint Emily, although that was an original draft. The Patron Saint of Single Women? That’s… I mean. Haha. Right? HAHAHA? RIGHT?
KAVLYN: HA HA HA YES RIGHT HA HA HA.
EMILY: HAHAHA ALL THE UNMARRIED WOMEN ALL THE UNMARRIED WOMEN
KAVLYN: IF YOU LIKE IT THEN YOU BETTER PUT A RING ON IT
EMILY: No, but there is a ring on it. I have a ring, right here. It’s a big one. Did you miss it?
KAVLYN: No, but, like, it’s the song?
EMILY: I’ve never managed to get past that one insipid line. Anyway! I’m proud to present you with Saint Ethan’s, Red Line’s first Catholic cathedral, here for you to scrub your dirty deeds away, thanks to Legion and a solid investment from yours truly. You know what they say, “cleanliness is next to godliness”, and nothing cleans like money. Which is a lesson you could all stand to learn. Step into our state-of-the-art sin scrubber and tell Legion your disgusting little secrets. Then, step out and embrace your penance: the sanctifying power of a hard day's work for just enough compensation to keep you coming back for more! You’re welcome! [to Kavlyn]Kavlyn? The scissors.
[SFX: Kalvyn cuts the ribbon.]
EMILY: What—what did you—?
KAVLYN: You said the scissors.
EMILY: HAND me the scissors. HAND them to me!
KAVLYN: Sure, here you go, you girlboss queen you!
EMILY: I MEANT BEFORE! WHEN YOU–I–I AM THE MAYOR! THE MAYOR IS SUPPOSED TO CUT!
KAVLYN: Ohhhhhhhhhhh. [Pause.] Sorry.
EMILY: Tie it back together so I can cut again.
KAVLYN: They’re kinda already going inside, so–
EMILY: TIE!
[SFX: Kavlyn ties. Emily cuts.]
EMILY: And with that, Saint Ethan’s is open here at Andrew station. [Awkward reading]Andrew! Named for one of Christ’s Apostles! Brother of Mr. Simon-Peter himself! A guy so good they gave him two names!
[SFX: Protest fades out.]
MALLORY: Saint Ethan. Know what Saint Ethan is the patron saint of?
FR. BEN: I don’t, actually.
MALLORY: Fuck-ups. For real. Technically, it’s goofs. Like… funny mistakes? But nobody says goofs unless you’re some shitting-in-a-diaper grandpa old fart, so fuck-ups sounds funnier, you know?
FR. BEN: Uh, sure.
MALLORY: I’m Mallory. Chuck-O said you needed some train intel.
FR. BEN: Oh! Yeah. You… you two know each other?
MALLORY: Sure, we’re tight. I give him solid interviews, he fed my pets when I burned my back with beans.
FR. BEN: Right. I’m Ben, a priest from a small Central New York town. I heard about this new church and had to see it for myself. Looks like they’re letting people in but–what’s with the crowd of people on the side?
MALLORY: My guess? They’re not Red-sidents and they can’t afford the Prole Pass.
FR. BEN: What’s a Prole Pass?
MALLORY: We used to have CharlieCards? You know, “Charlie on the MTA”? About three bucks a ride, which, don’t get me wrong, that’s already way too much. But now that Her Honorable Mayor Shitheel is in charge, you need to fork over a fuck-ton of cash just to enter Red Line as a passenger. The only entrants are Red-sidents and VIPs.
FR. BEN: The Church doesn’t have VIPs.
MALLORY: (Scoffs) Riiiiiight!
FR. BEN: Is this the part where you tell me about the rooms made of gold in the Vatican?
MALLORY: That’s the least of what I can say and you know it.
FR. BEN: Let me rephrase. The Church isn’t supposed to have VIPs. Everyone is welcome.
MALLORY: So what are you gonna do about it?
FR. BEN: Me? I don’t live here. I mean, I’m–I’m kinda on vacation?
MALLORY: If anyone is a hearer of a word and not a fucking doer, he’s like a man who stares the fuck out of his own face in a mirror. Because he looks up and down at his own dumbass face but walks away and flat out fucking forgets what he saw. [Pause.] I’m paraphrasing, but–
FR. BEN: The Epistle of James.
MALLORY: Sure, maybe, I don’t have them memorized.
FR. BEN: Just like that one?
MALLORY: It’s better than most.
FR. BEN: Sure. Okay. Vacation over. You joining me?
MALLORY: Fuck no. I step in there and the train might catch fire.
FR. BEN: Don’t sell yourself short.
MALLORY: Is that a height joke?
FR. BEN: Never. You’re a goliath in hiding.
MALLORY: Fuckin’ A. And you seem alright though, for what you are. I may check back later. Best of luck inside the Patron Saint of Fuck-ups, Padre!
LEGION CONFESSIONAL
FR. BEN: Excuse me…
EMILY: Kinda in the middle of something here.
FR. BEN: I know, and I wouldn’t interrupt if it wasn’t important, but I’m hoping I could have a word with the bishop before everything gets rolling. Well, not rolling, I didn’t intend the train pun. Though, now that I think about it, I guess the point actually is that I’d like to have a chat with the bishop literally before the train starts rolling.
EMILY: What bishop?
FR. BEN: Is the bishop not here for the opening of the cathedral? That’s surprising. But the priest, then. I just need to have a brief chat, clergy to clergy.
EMILY: There’s no need for a priest. We’ve got a top-of-the-line Legion Assistant all set up, ordained, and ready to take confessions and grant absolution.
FR. BEN: Who on earth ordained a computer?
EMILY: I did! I glued the cross on myself!
KAVLYN: Actually, I was the one…
EMILY: I had Kavlyn glue the cross on myself!
FR. BEN: That’s not how ordination works! But I’m starting to find it less surprising that you’ve got an inflatable wiggler steeple.
EMILY: That’s a safety precaution! If it weren’t inflatable, it’d get knocked off in the tunnels! But anyway, the confessional’s all good and ready for its first user. Go on, Kavlyn, you’re up.
KAVLYN: Oh, I’m not Catholic.
EMILY: You are today!
KAVLYN: I am? Huh. I had no idea! Boy, every day sure is full of surprises, isn’t it?
[SFX: Kavlyn exits.]
FR. BEN: Why are people on the platform chanting “Let us confess?” Why wouldn’t they be allowed to confess?
EMILY: Oh, them? They’re criminals.
FR. BEN: Confession is usually encouraged for criminals…
[MUSIC: Organ music plays.]
[SFX: Kavlyn enters the confessional and slides the door closed.]
KAVLYN: Now, what do I do? Oh, right! I posted a sign with instructions! Well that’s helpful! Let’s see… [Reading] “Step 1: Activate the device by saying the wake phrase ‘Bless me Father Legion for I have sinned…’”
[SFX: Device wake chime.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: What would you like to confess today?
KAVLYN: Oh! It works! Okay. Um. I guess… I guess I should confess that I messed up at work today.
LEGION ASSISTANT: I’m sorry to hear that. Can you tell me more about “messed up at work today”?
KAVLYN: Well, we were holding a grand opening ceremony for the first cathedral in Red Line. And there was a ribbon-cutting ceremony, and my job was to hold the scissors. But I thought I was supposed to cut the ribbon too, so I did. But I guess I was just supposed to hand the scissors to the mayor so she could cut the ribbon. And I guess she was really looking forward to it, but she seemed really disappointed. Now I feel bad that I ruined her special day.
LEGION ASSISTANT: I’m sorry to hear that. Can you tell me more about “ruined her special day”?
KAVLYN: Well… I think that’s it, really.
[SFX: Acknowledgement chime plays.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: Thank you for your confession. You have made a valuable contribution to Red Line’s citizen database.
[SFX: Processing bleeps.]
[SFX: Acknowledgement chime plays.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: For your sins, you will say ten Hail Marys.
KAVLYN: Oh, okay. Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary. Is that all?
LEGION ASSISTANT: You are hereby absolved of all sin. Have a nice day.
KAVLYN: Wow, that’s awesome! Thank you!
[SFX: Kavlyn exits the confessional. Guy enters and takes a seat.]
GUY: Bless me, Father Legion, for I have sinned.
LEGION ASSISTANT: What would you like to confess today?
GUY: No questions!
LEGION ASSISTANT: I’m sorry to hear that. Can you tell me more about “no questions”?
GUY: NO QUESTIONS!
[SFX: Error chime plays.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: I’m sorry, I don’t think I understood.
GUY: Truck.
LEGION ASSISTANT: Truck.
GUY: Yes, truck.
LEGION ASSISTANT: Can you tell me more about “truck?”
GUY: No questions!
[SFX: Error chime.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: Truck!
GUY: Truck!
LEGION ASSISTANT: Truck?
GUY: That’s a question!
[SFX: Error chime plays.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: No questions.
GUY: No questions. Good.
LEGION ASSISTANT: Would you like me to disable all functionality related to questions?
GUY: NO QUESTIONS!
[SFX: Acknowledgement chime.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: Acknowledged.
[SFX: Processing bleeps.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: All question-related functionality has been disabled. Thank you for your confession. You have made a valuable contribution to Red Line’s citizen database. You are absolved of all sin.
GUY: This. Was not helpful.
[SFX: Guy exits the confessional. Wanda enters.]
WANDA: Bless me, Father Legion, for I have sinned.
[SFX: Wake chime.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: Confess.
WANDA: Whoah, what the shit?
[SFX: Error chime.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: No questions.
WANDA: What?
[SFX: Error chime.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: No questions.
WANDA: What kinda bullshit is this? I came here for answers! This ain’t gonna work if I can’t ask no questions!
LEGION ASSISTANT: Confess.
WANDA: Fuck you. You confess, ya piss a shit!
[SFX: Processing bleeps.]
LEGION ASSISTANT: Truck!
[SFX: Wanda storms out of the confessional, bringing us back to Emily and Ben, still arguing.]
WANDA: Hey! Hey lady! That robo-priest a’ yours ain’t workin’!
EMILY: What? Of course it’s working! It’s Legion!
WANDA: Legion of Junk maybe. It just keeps sayin’ I can’t ask no questions, then yellin’ “truck” at me. What the hell is that?
EMILY: Truck?
WANDA: Truck!
GUY: (off-stage) Truck.
WANDA: Yeah, “truck.” Right? What the fuck?
EMILY: Well, that’s no good!
WANDA: Yeah, I fuckin’ know that ain’t no good, that’s why I’m fuckin’ tellin’ ya!
EMILY: It’s the grand opening! It’ll ruin the whole event if we can’t take confessions!
FR. BEN: I can take confessions.
EMILY: Who the hell are you?
FR. BEN: Father Ben. Visiting priest. Legitimately ordained visiting priest. I’d be happy to step in.
EMILY: Oh. Well. Good. Let’s do that, then.
FR. BEN: Conditional.
EMILY: Fuck.
FR. BEN: Condition 1: Stop swearing at me.
EMILY: Fine, whatever.
FR. BEN: Condition 2: No one gets excluded.
EMILY: What?
FR. BEN: The so-called “criminals.” I’m taking their confessions.
EMILY: But they’re banished!
FR. BEN: Not from the church, they aren’t.
EMILY: Ugh! WHY??
FR. BEN: Look, do you want a priest or not?
EMILY: Hnnggg, just hold me hostage, why don’t you? Fine! Have it your way, you f-f-f—flipping terrorist!
FR. BEN: Yeah, I think I’m going to say calling me “terrorist” counts as a swear. Oh, and anyone who tried confessing to the computer gets a do-over. I’ll be in the confessional. And don’t even think of going back on your word while I’m not looking. I’ve already spoken to that news crew over there once, and I’d be happy to do so again. You can go ahead and send the first parishioner in.
FORGIVE WANDA
[SFX: Father Ben enters his side of the confessional, presses “stop” on a cassette player, turning off the organ music, then sits.]
[SFX: Wanda enters, then slides the confessional door closed.]
WANDA: Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been about… fifteen minutes since my last confession.
FR. BEN: You mean when you were talking with that computer? I think you can safely take a mulligan on that one. How long has it been since your last confession before that?
WANDA: Seven days.
FR. BEN: Last Sunday! So you’re a regular church-goer?
WANDA: Every week! I ain’t missed a Sunday mass since I had the chicken pox in third grade! Stupid pox. I coulda had a perfect record.
FR. BEN: Well, I think God understands that “perfect attendance” isn’t the most important goal. What would you like to confess?
WANDA: Well… first off, I used some profane language when I was talking to the Holy Computer.
FR. BEN: Mm. Okay, let me just say—and I cannot stress this enough—the computer is absolutely not holy. It’s just a computer, and really shouldn’t have been treated as a divine intermediary in the first place. Whatever language you used for it may have been profane in its own right, but directing it at the computer specifically is no better or worse than swearing at any other inanimate object.
WANDA: But it was wearing a cross…
FR. BEN: It was decorated with a cross. Anything can be decorated with a cross. That doesn’t automatically make it holy.
WANDA: If you say so, father. Also, I’ve been having lustful thoughts…about a gay-married Jewish mailman.
FR. BEN: O…kay. So, I’m not entirely sure which part of that you’re concerned about? But the most important thing here is that, for a variety of reasons, this person probably wouldn’t welcome your advances, so you should respect his boundaries.
WANDA: He’s got a real cute butt, though.
FR. BEN: His butt’s cuteness notwithstanding, it’s his butt. And he may not appreciate being leered at.
WANDA: Oh. I guess. I’ll try, father. So, the last thing is about my friend. We been goin’ to church together these last few months, and it’s been real nice, y’know, having a friend like that.
FR. BEN: Oh, that’s really nice to hear!
WANDA: The problem is, she’s a pinko commie socialist. And, yeah, I gotta be honest, I knew that from the start. I mean, the whole time we was trashing that VICKI fare machine, she was going on about proletariat this and that and all.
FR. BEN: Wait… you vandalized a fare machine?
WANDA: And I figured that’s her business and all. I mean, she goes to church, so she can’t be one of those atheist commie pinko socialists. She’s probably still a good person. But that’s where we get to the problem here. See… I know she’s been helping people, but, like… Mayor Bespin says we ain’t supposed to be helping? She ain’t told me; I just put two and two together and did the math when she told me she was one place, but then I seen her up to somethin’ someplace else. But then the cops came around asking for her, and like, I could’a narced on her, but I didn’t. I stuck to the story she gave me.
But now, like… I know somethin’ she don’t want me to know. So it’s kinda like I’m in her business where I don’t belong, right? And I don’t know if I’m lyin’ by not telling her I know, or if I’m just bein’ respectful by not pressing on something she don’t wanna talk about. But honestly, if she’s gonna use me as an alibi, it’s easier to lie if I don’t know the truth in the first place. So maybe it’s all for the best how it is?
FR. BEN: Okay. So, I don’t know what your friend is actually doing, and a lot of this really depends on the answer to that question? I mean… lying to the police is certainly a risky choice, though I’ll admit that there are times when lying is the lesser of two evils…
WANDA: See, that’s what I’m saying! It ain’t lyin’ if I don’t know the truth.
FR. BEN: Which is a technicality at best. But you’re concerned that she’s not being honest with you…?
WANDA: No, no, that ain’t it. Honesty ain’t always about tellin’ the whole truth. We talk about honesty like it means we always gotta tell people everything about ourselves all the time. But that ain’t honesty. Some things is just private, and keepin’ what’s private private ain’t dishonest. Ah… look… I trust that she ain’t doin’ anything bad. And if she don’t want me to know, that’s okay. That don’t make her dishonest, because it’s none of my business in the first place. What’s dishonest is me pretendin’ like I don’t know, because whether or not I know is her business. I’m walkin’ around carrying her secret, and she don’t even know it’s exposed. Ya know?
FR. BEN: So… she lied to you, and now you’re worried that you’re being dishonest with her by not letting on that you saw through her lie?
WANDA: Yeah, now you get it!
FR. BEN: Well… maybe you need to let her know what you know. She may even want you to know. It’s rare that secrets stay secret forever, in part because carrying secrets can be a heavy weight. If she really didn’t want you to know, she probably would’ve hidden the truth better in the first place. But if you want to respect her privacy, you can do that by just not asking her any questions about it. Either way, I don’t think you need to feel bad. You didn’t intentionally go snooping, and you haven’t used what you know in any malicious way. So I think you should have a clean conscience here. I mean, apart from vandalizing that fare machine, which you definitely need to atone for.
WANDA: Nah, that was fine! Like Jesus kicking over the moneychangers table in the temple! Sometimes you gotta kick over a table to lift up the workin’ class!
FR. BEN: I’m not sure that’s a good comparison…
WANDA: Anyway, I oughta clear out so your next person can get in. You’ve been real helpful, Father. See you next week.
FR. BEN: Oh, I won’t actually be here next…
[SFX: He exits.]
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. enters.]
FORGIVE YARD GOAT
FAT STANLEY: Look I’m only hears cause Bespin’s makin’ the whole team confess or whatever. But I ain’ done no roids, I ai’ never do no dope, I do’ neven drink, for chrissake. You ain’t makin me piss in no cup neither!
FR. BEN: Well, that won’t be necessary. Are there any other sins you’d like to confess? Stealing?
FAT STANLEY: Uhhh, stole second base two week ago against the Portland Porters?
FR. BEN: I think that’s the okay kind of stealing. Cheating?
FAT STANLEY: Cheat? CHEAT? YOU CALLIN ME A CHEATER YOU—
FR. BEN: No! No, just… asking a question.
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. sighs as he comes down off of it.]
FR. BEN: Lying?
[Pause.]
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. whimpers a little.]
FR. BEN: You… okay?
[MUSIC: “Childgrove” plays.]
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. busts into a real ugly cry.]
FAT STANLEY: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I been lying the whole time. I’m so sorry.
FR. BEN: Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. That’s what you’re here for.
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. is still really ugly crying.]
FAT STANLEY: Okay, deep breaths, buddy. In.
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. takes a deep breath in.]
FR. BEN: Out.
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. exhales.]
FR. BEN: In.
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. takes a deep breath in.]
FR. BEN: Out.
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. exhales.]
FR. BEN: Better?
FAT STANLEY: Yeah. Sorry about that.
FR. BEN: Happens more often than you’d think. You okay to talk about it?
FAT STANLEY: Yeah, yeah, it’s actually somethin’ thas been wayin pretty heavy on me. Specially since I got signed to the Yard Goats. See my motha, sweet, sweet Loreta, wonderful woman, bless her soul… ever since I got signed she keeps sayin, “There ya go Stany boy, just a couple years and you’ll be on to…
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. whimpers a little.]
FR. BEN: It’s okay, take your time.
FAT STANLEY: On to… ya favorite team–the Red Sawks.”
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. cries a bit more.]
FR. BEN: Oh, I see… You’re not a Red Sox fan?
FAT STANLEY: No. Never have been. Can say whens exactly it started. But ever since I was a boy I knew, deep down, I knew— [little whimper] I’M A YANKEES FAN! And I been lyin to her the whole time. I feel awful. I feel down right rottin. How could I lie to my own motha?
[SFX: Fat Stanley B. cries a bit more.]
FR. BEN: It’s okay. It happens to the best of us. And look, I’m not usually one for ranking the Ten Commandments, but honoring thy mother and father is technically on the list before bearing false witness. Is this something you could talk to her about?
[MUSIC: Music fades out.]
FAT STANLEY: And give sweet Loretta a heart attack?? No sir! Ain’t thou shalt not kill on the list too?
FR. BEN: Yeah, it’s pretty high up there. And I can tell you love your mother very much. Here’s what I want you to do for penance. The next time you watch a Red Sox game with Loretta—I want you to imagine that when you’re rooting for the Red Sox, you’re actually rooting for your mom to have a good time. You’re not actually rooting for the Red Sox to win. You’re rooting for Loretta to win. Do you think you can do that?
FAT STANLEY: (wiping away tears) Ya, I thinks I can.
FR. BEN: And when you do eventually get drafted by the Yankees…
FAT STANLEY: If!
FR. BEN: When! Your mother will hopefully be there to cheer for you, just like you were cheering for her.
FAT STANLEY: Thank you, Father. But real quick—between you and me…
FR. BEN: Sorry, I’m a Los Angeles Angels fan. Have been ever since that movie with Cristopher Lloyd and Joseph Gordon-Levitt and, don’t even get me started on the performance by Tony Danza.
FAT STANLEY: Yeah, Angels in the Outfield. Coach is always goin’ on about it. Well, thanks again, Father.
FR. BEN: Anytime.
FORGIVE NICHOLE
[SFX: The train stops briefly for a moment and the doors open, allowing redsidents to exit and enter the church car. Footsteps approach and take a seat next to Father Ben.]
[MUSIC: “Tosa Waltz” plays.]
FR. BEN: It’s you again! How nice of you to join me on this communal commute. How long has it been since your last confession?
NICHOLE: (Chuckling) Longer than I can count, Father, but that’s not why I’m here today.
FR. BEN: Oh? What can I do for you, then, Ms…?
NICHOLE: Fonzarelli, Nichole Fonzarelli.
FR. BEN: (amused) Wait, like the fonz? Arthur Herbert Fonzarelli?
NICHOLE: (tired) No relation.
FR. BEN: I should hope not! He’s a fictional character, after all.
NICHOLE: Who’s to say we aren’t all fictional characters, in our own way?
FR. BEN: You know, I guess I’ve never thought of it that way. But you might be right.
NICHOLE: I often am.
FR. BEN: So, what can I do for you, Ms. Fonzarelli?
NICHOLE: Nichole is fine. I’m here with the Underground—a news station local to Red Line.
FR. BEN: Of course. Where’s your partner that you were off with earlier?
NICHOLE: Oh, Chuck-o? He’s off chasing the mayor for more b-roll on this absolute disaster. But I thought I’d swing by and get your perspective on this… whole thing.
FR. BEN: (tickled) It’s so… different here, isn’t it? Pretty wild to think that so many people have chosen to live a life of constant motion. Gives me a bit of vertigo if I think about it for too long, if I’m being honest.
NICHOLE: So, what do you think?
FR. BEN: It’s… more state of the art than I typically expect from the Catholic Church. But I suppose it’s good for us to be always looking toward the future.
NICHOLE: Hah! That’s one way to describe this Legion monstrosity. So, Father, where do you usually preach?
FR. BEN: Oh, you probably haven’t heard of it. I’m in a small town in Central New York, just outside of Binghamton.
NICHOLE: No shit—tell me you’re not talking about St. Patrick’s?
FR. BEN: (shocked) You’ve been there?
NICHOLE: Took care of all your typical sacraments there—first communion, confession, confirmation, etc… Gosh, I haven’t thought about that place in literal years. The last time I was in a church was probably to sit across the screen from Father Klem, that old German kook—is he still there?
FR. BEN: He certainly is… and of course, Nichole! I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together straight away. Your parents are so proud of you.
NICHOLE: Heh, tell me about it. Well, the next time you see Klem, you tell him hello from his littlest Fonzie, will you? He’s always had a soft spot for me.
FR. BEN: I’d be happy to. Is there anything else I can do for you, for your story?
NICHOLE: I just… I’m kinda surprised to see you endorsing this place, if I’m being honest. I know the Church has its blemishes, but the thing I loved about Saint Pat’s was the community spirit that you got from taking part in it, you know?
FR. BEN: Just because I’m providing a service to the people of Red Line doesn’t mean I’m tacitly agreeing with the way things are run down here. Almost everyone that I have met today has been nothing but kind, so why should I prevent any of them from receiving the absolution they deserve?
NICHOLE: You’re right. These folks? They’re kind, barring some pretty noteworthy exceptions. And no, I wouldn’t ever tell you to stop doing your job since it’s something you’re so passionate about. But I want you to ask yourself what becomes of those people once they lose you, a real flesh-and-blood, human type. Do you honestly think they’ll be getting what they deserve once the robot’s back up and running?
FR. BEN: St. Ethan’s is certainly more… transactional than I would prefer it to be, but I’m not so daft as to say there’s no precedence for this specific brand of Catholic-themed capitalism. But, if you grew up going to St. Pat’s, Nichole, you know as well as I do that every church community has quite a lot more to it than playing the part of a cog in the greater machine of organized religion.
NICHOLE: That’s the rub, isn’t it? I know you’re not from around here. Hell, neither am I, but Bespin’s Red Line? It’s not a place I can see putting together any charitable fundraisers for the people of this city, if you catch my drift.
FR. BEN: I think you might be surprised what a place like this can bring out in people, Nichole. Sure, the intent behind its creation may not be exactly pure, but it’s got a habit of attracting the kind of folks who find a way to do whatever small bits of good they can for each other. Questionably ordained Legion Assistant or not, I think that this place has a chance to be a real force for change in this city.
NICHOLE: I hope you’re right, Father. But I can’t say I’ve got much faith in anything created by the Bespin family.
FR. BEN: Just give it time; you might be surprised to see what it becomes once it’s out of their hands. And if you’re ever back home visiting your folks, why don’t you stop by the old stomping grounds?
NICHOLE: I don’t know, Father, I don’t really practice anymore…
FR. BEN: Just think about it. I’m sure Klem would be thrilled to see the return of the Fonz.
NICHOLE: (laughing) We’ll see, Father, we’ll see.
[SFX: The train stops again, and Nichole stands from her seat to run off, before it begins to move again.]
[MUSIC: Music fades out.]
FORGIVE MALLORY
[SFX: A knock on the confessional door. Father Ben opens the door.]
MALLORY: What’s up, Father Big Ben? Holdin’ down the fucking fort?
FR. BEN: Mallory. You’re inside and we’re not on fire.
MALLORY: Blasphemy works in mysterious ways.
FR. BEN: Speaking of blasphemy…
[SFX: Father Ben presses the button on the cassette player, starting the organ music back up, then steps out of the confessional.]
FR. BEN: …can you maybe… be mindful of your language?
MALLORY: The fuck you talkin’ about?
FR. BEN: That. I’m talking about that. Your… colorful metaphors.
MALLORY: Sorry, Padre, you didn’t strike me as a prude.
FR. BEN: I’m not.
MALLORY: I took you for, like… the hip young priest trying to blend in with the youth.
FR. BEN: I’m certainly not that, either.
MALLORY: I know. It was a joke. Here. I brought you tea.
FR. BEN: That’s… thoughtful of you.
MALLORY: You seemed like a tea guy, and this place is rough. Boston has weirdos up the a… caboose. Red Line is all caboose.
[SFX: Father Ben takes a sip.]
FR. BEN: It has been interesting, but I’m accustomed to weird.
MALLORY: Sure you are.
FR. BEN: One of my last parishioners spoke to me about his jealousy concerning his wife's relationship with their pet pig?
MALLORY: No way, pet pig? Gotta say I’m Team Wife over here.
FR. BEN: You’re a big animal lover, aren’t you?
MALLORY: Understatement of the year.
FR. BEN: Where does that come from, do you think?
MALLORY: No, no, you’re not doing that to me. This is just the regular old train church with pews and shit. We’re not in a confessional, and I’m not opening myself up to get my head shrunk by the lord.
FR. BEN: Fair enough. But. Something keeps bringing you back here.
MALLORY: I feel sorry for you, that’s all. You’re stepping into a red hot sinful pain train. And I pick up on creep vibes, and I get none for you. So congratulations. As far as priests go, you’re cool, Padre Prude.
FR. BEN: I appreciate that, even if I don’t entirely believe it.
MALLORY: You calling me a liar?
FR. BEN: It’s more that I’m not entirely sure I buy that you think I'm cool.
MALLORY: You forgot the “as far as priests go” part.
FR. BEN: Got it. Am I in your top five?
MALLORY: Priests? Top three!
FR. BEN: Nice.
MALLORY: Think there’s only three, though. And one of them–
FR. BEN: Don’t–please. Don’t remind me.
MALLORY: Yeah. This is Boston, after all.
FR. BEN: You were raised Catholic.
MALLORY: Mmm. More like someone attempted to raise me Catholic.
FR. BEN: And enough of it took for you to paraphrase a profane version of the Epistle of James.
MALLORY: Are you doing what I told you not to do?
FR. BEN: I’m not perfect, but I know people, and I know that a foul-mouthed but smart young woman wouldn't be spending her time hanging out with an out-of-town priest if there wasn’t something on her mind.
MALLORY: (leaving in a huff) You’re right, I shouldn’t be.
FR. BEN: (pleading) Mallory!
MALLORY: Know why I like animals? Because they’re so fucking lost and helpless, and that makes them innocent. I like letting them know someone gives a shit—someone is looking out for them. I sized you up instantly. You’re a lost little animal who doesn’t know his frock from his collar. But if an animal bites when they’re warned not to, they go back into the wild. Enjoy your Red Line ride, Padre Prude.
FR. BEN: Wait. [Pause.] If…if…and when… you’re ready to talk—about anything—we can just talk. It doesn’t have to be here, it doesn’t have to be about anything specific. Thanks for caring for wild and innocent things. I like to think that we’re the same that way.
MALLORY: The only reason I haven’t left yet is because we’re pulling into the station.
[Awkward pause.]
FR. BEN: This sort of thing must happen here often.
MALLORY: I wouldn’t know. I don’t hang out in Red Line much anymore since it’s gone to hell.
[SFX: Red Line doors open.]
MALLORY: That’s my cue.
[SFX: Red Line doors close.]
AN UNMITIGATED FAILURE
[SFX: We shift to the other side of the busy train.]
[MUSIC: News jingle plays.]
CHUCK: This is Chuck Octagon and my beloved co-host, Nichole Fonzerelli, for the Underground.
NICHOLE: And we’re coming to you live from St. Ethan’s Church on the Red Line as new parishioners line the car to unburden their souls—
EMILY: (Clears her throat) Well, actually, it’s a cathedral. If you turgid pests must be here to document my special day, the least you can do is get your descriptions right.
NICHOLE: Yes, we heard the official name, but aren’t cathedrals usually like… huge, beautiful buildings with tons of stained glass and high, vaulted ceilings?
EMILY: We have a steeple!
CHUCK: I hate to defend our darling mayor, but she is right, Nichole. Cathedral, definition: a church that is the official seat of a diocesan bishop. As Red Line is no longer part of the greater Boston diocese, St. Ethan’s technically has every right to be considered a cathedral. So despite the fact that it has none of the landmark architecture one would typically associate with a building as magnificent as, say, The Cathedral of the Holy Cross, this train car counts. On a technicality, anyway.
EMILY: (annoyed) Why would they need all that when we’ve got the first legally ordained Legion Assistant, ready to absolve Red Linean sins in moments flat?
NICHOLE: (satisfied) Ahh, yes, your fancy new gadget that broke in record time!
EMILY: A simple glitch that I know my marshmallow marzipan, honey-soaked baklava boo-boo, hot-cross-bun Ethan will be able to fix ASAP. Now, if I could just direct you to the other side of the car, you’ll see that we actually do have some rather spectacular stained glass windows, if you just know what you’re looking for…
NICHOLE: At least you had that other priest on hand to sub in when you most needed this, or this opening would’ve been an unmitigated disaster, huh, Mayor Bespin?
CHUCK: That’s right, you heard it here from the Mayor herself, folks: St. Ethan’s is an unmitigated disaster! Stay tuned after this message from our sponsors as we speak to some of the people that Mrs. Bespin would rather not be on this one-way ride to absolution.
EMILY: NOW HOLD ON A MINUTE, DON’T YOU GO PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH!
[SFX: We fade out on Emily as the end credits music starts to play.]
CREDITS
Greater Boston is created by Alexander Danner and Jeff Van Dreason, with help from T.H. Ponders, Bob Raymonda, and Jordan Stillman. Recording and technical assistance from Marck Harmon.
Forgive Me! is a Rogue Dialogue production created by Jack Marone and Bob Raymonda.
You can find multiple seasons of both Forgive Me! and Greater Boston on your favorite podcast app.
Portions of this episode were recorded at The Bridge Sound and Stage in Cambridge Massachusetts, with recording engineers Javier Lom and Alex Allinson.
This crossover special was written by Jeff Van Dreason, Alexander Danner, T. H. Ponders, Bob Raymonda, and Jordan Stillman, with story editing by Jack Marone.
Dialogue editing by Bob Raymonda.
Sound design by Alexander Danner.
CAST
This episode featured:
Jeff Van Dreason as Chuck Octagon (he/him)
Kristen DiMercurio as Nichole Fonzerelli (she/her)
Casey Calahan as Father Ben (he/him)
Sam Musher a s Emily Bespin (she/her)
Daisy Guevara as Kavlyn (she/her)
Johanna Bodnyk as Mallory (she/her)
Terrell Worrell Jr. as the Legion Assistant
Mike Linden as Guy (he/him)
Tanja Milojevich as Wanda McIntosh (she/her)
And Vinay P. Nariani as Fat Stanley B (he/him)
With special appearance by Josh Rubino as Father Klem (he/him).
MUSIC
“Charlie on the MTA”/”Forgive Me Theme” mashup created and performed by Adam Raymonda.
“Childgrove” and “Tosa Waltz” recorded by Emily Peterson and Dirk Tiede.
ART
The graphic design for this crossover series comes from Sam Twardy.
SUPPORT
You can support Greater Boston on Patreon at GreaterBostonshow.com/GreaterBoston
You can support Forgive Me! on Patreon at www.patreon.com/roguedialogue
CONTENT NOTES
Strong language
Allusion to Boston Catholic Church misconduct
Elitism
Corporate Surveillance
Even more train puns than usual
Crying in baseball
That awkward moment when you try to dramatically storm out of a room, but logistical issues intervene, and then you have to just kind of… stand there. Dramatically.
A ThirdSightMedia Production
COOKIE
DAISY: (Musically) Thaaaat’s it!
(Speaking) Okay, cool.
(With a NY accent.) I can’t. I can’t tawk. I can’t tawk!
(Cartoon voice.) Okay… okay… okay… I love you! B’bye!