The Most Unreadable Epic of All Time
an excerpt

“Yes,” his voice trailed off. “Sorry!” He whipped around and took out some thick-rimmed glasses from his pocket, bending down to inspect the man lying on the floor, Papal hat and all. “It’s brilliant, is what it is.” He rubbed his jaw in contemplation. “Get lost, crash hard maybe, try to fit into the contemporary world, but you can’t ‘cause you don’t fit just like that! So you seek out the most common form of communication – the telly of course!” He was starting to do a little dance with waving arms around the body, while the woman and Camille looked on in amusement and horror, respectively. “Oh, yes! Then! To fit in, you morph into the most popular image you see in July Two Thousand and Eight! The Pope!” His voice quieted and his arms came down to his sides again. “Though, I have to admit – the Pope?” He squeaked. “Must not be an intelligent creature.” I have got to be delirious, Camille thought.