The Fruits of Evil

It was a slow day for the members of the Inquisition. It seemed as if all
The faith in Cordoba had been proven, and every bit of heresy pulled
Out by the root.
It seemed, perhaps, that they were now looking at the final bit that someone
Had managed to drag out by the stem.
Straight from the Grand Inquisitor, they had been told. He’s very concerned.
You’re to get to the bottom of this, and as swift as possible.
“Lorencio,” said Velasco, eyeing the thing on the table. “Does this seem
Heretical to you?”
Lorencio was giving the alien thing a wide birth. He kept looking to the door,
Kept fingering the icon around his neck. “…Maybe.”
Velasco sighed. “Are you saying that because you think it upsets the Lord,
Or are you saying that because you think the Grand Inquisitor agrees?”
“Both,” said Lorencio. “I have much faith in the anger of the Lord.”
And a good bit more in the anger of Tomas Torquemada.
The thing had been found in the new world, on one of Columbus’ many
Expeditions. There was a lot of heresy coming back from those expeditions.
A lot of it locked up in chests of gold that were taken from the hands of those
That went to that lonely climb up to an auto-da-fe, and thrust into the care of
Those who had denounced them, with a generous measure, Velasco suspected, for…
“The Grand Inquisitor, in his infinite wisdom, has given us this thing to do with
As we see fit,” Velasco announced, in a clear voice. “I agree with his judgment that
It upsets the Lord. We shall waste no time in destroying it.”
“I agree,” said Lorencio, handing over the knife as Velasco motioned for it.
It fought him as the blade pierced the flesh, a tangy scent filling the air as he sawed
Back and forth. But before long, it was in two pieces.
Velasco licked his lips as Lorencio came suddenly forward, sniffing. “What’s it called?”
Velasco carried on cutting. “I believe, Lorencio, this is called a pineapple.”
It was a slow day for the members of the Inquisition in Cordoba.
And it was only a very minute heresy that they discovered that day.

 

by Thomas Boyle

(prompts: minute, pineapple, heresy)

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