ANY-way, Sister Mary Slapface stifles a giggle or two, but that's really not that important right now, because what is important is the fact that Father Schmidt's ambling down the main aisle from the altar, musing about evil and the Creator and whatnot right before he...ominously bolts the door! DUN! None of the nuns seem to notice this, however, so let's have a listen to the nonsense dribbling out of Father Schmidt's mouth at the moment, shall we? "We shall!" Knock it off, Raoul. "Hee!" "Sometimes," Father Schmidt admits, "I feel -- in a very literal sense -- that I have been wandering the desert for years, looking for our father." "Well, not our father," he amends, absently gesturing around to include his increasingly puzzled flock in the pews. "My father." "See, he's in jail," Father Schmidt continues, now walking back up the aisle, "and your dad put him there!" At this, Sister Slapface bolts upright in her seat, and her clumpy mascara goes, "Whaaaaaa?" just as Father Schmidt brisks by, more or less noting, "I almost gave up hope, but I finally found him -- or at least the spot where his cage door opens -- and it's right here! In a damn convent, for God's sake!" By now, Sister Slapface and the others of her order have become visibly unsettled by the demonically enhanced priest's decidedly erratic ramblings, but for whatever docile, obedient, and otherwise brainless reasons, they remain in the pews with their hands folded uselessly in their laps instead of, oh, I don't know, getting the hell out of there by any means necessary. Stupid nuns.

Hesitantly, Sister Slapface chooses this moment of extreme tension to interrupt the obviously unhinged collar jockey in front of her with a question.