LanLan Chronicle: In the Presence of the Black Pope

Chapter 1: In the Presence of the Black Pope

As a hard working man from Wyoming, you undergo the sacrifices necessary to maintain a proper living in this landslide of an economy. Being in the position of bankruptcy is a difficult thing to experience; constant notices, phone calls from the bank, and non stop labor. It was one of those things that you had to get done or else you're left with nothing but distant dreams that are now a blur in the path to your once achievable success. I was currently working as a car salesman at the Toyota dealership in Green River, until the sales percentage declined immensely. Clients were now drawn to the high luxury brands like Mercedes-Benz, Bentley, and Rolls-Royce. Our business was going nowhere and employees needed money desperately to pay bills. As the conditions didn't improve, I chose to pay a visit to our holy  local church, " The High Hill Freewill Baptist Church."During a red light at Byron and 28th, a bum approached my window. I as a good samaritan lowered my window halfway , the scorching afternoon Sun striking my sensitive, warm skin. The homeless bum asked, "Yo man u got any crack, a connect or sometin you could hook a brotha up with?" I was appalled by such a question, no man has ever came up to me with quite a demand. It didn't disturb me, everyone has their reasons for the actions they take. I solely responded with a "No" and resumed the drive to High Hill. On the radio their was an update on the drug situation in Green River. They informed us that they had released intel on the cartels drug lord, "The Black Pope." The culprit is suspected to be an African American in his mid thirties, lean physique, gray/black undernourished hair, and allegedly uses prescription glasses. The Black Pope was last seen departing the train station around Uncle Billys Country Diner around 3:30 A.M. I gasped in awe, my jaw dropping instantly to the shocking news. The station was just a couple blocks away from the church and that's where I was heading right now. When I arrived to the cathedral like church it was quite vacant. There was a delicate old lady sobbing in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary.Her nephew was in intensive care after a wasted taxi driver ran him over and nearly ended the innocent boys life. There was a couple asking to receive a blessing from the pope, to maintain their marriage healthy, loving, and never ending until the day they both parished off this earth together as one. So much was going on, but yet not to many people. It goes to show that there is so much a person can go through in a day and appreciate how beautiful the gift of life is. After the couple left, I approached the pope. The pope was a tall, African-American that was at least 38. A wise and noble looking  man, as if he were God himself. I asked him for his blessing, and bless me he did. He retrieved the holy water from the inside of his robe and drizzled some onto my forehead. I prayed,"In the name of the Father, the Son, and in the Holy Spirit ,Amen." He asked me my reasoning for his blessing and I replied,"I am at the moment facing bankruptcy and fear that I will not be able to sustain a living. I fear of ending up alone and helpless on the frigid,aching streets with no-one to ever look back and notice who I once was." The pope reached out and placed his delicate hand on my broad shoulder and simply told me, "All of that can change right now, there is no need to fear when the answers you seek are right in front of you." I was thunderstruck, speechless, absolutely amazed by this man's words. What did he mean? Was he my resolution? I stood there silently confused. He then told me," I shall aid you, under one condition; you must not mention what I am about to tell you to any living soul.Deal?" I agreed to his terms and out his secret went. The noble man that I thought he once was, was actually a drug dealer. More specifically, he was the Black Pope. He was in search for a salesman, me. A trustworthy person who would be able to increase his profits in the crack business and not get caught. In return, he would pay me $15,000 every 2 weeks and provide me with a right hand man, a body guard sort of speaking. I would be working with Jason Lamar, an ex-convict who knows the Wyoming streets from top to bottom and guarantees that I am safe in his hands. It was a lot to take in, but I would risk everything to get my life back together. This is where my new journey will commence and later see what my future has in store.