DRUg nun
Final script for interactive choice game (player has choice over dialogue options), fall 2024
Sapphic prayers are heard in our monastery, but only when we get high off the fumes of whatever it is they put in the churches.
Sister Modestía, 6:9
“Lord please forgive the sins I committed last night. And the night before. In the brightness of Your light of this holy new day — thank you, by the way, for the weather — I can now see — okay?!— I see, with clarity – angelic clarity: it was sinful and bad and wrong to blow that drunk tourist, and to drink wine from the kiosk, o lord, you tempted me and I fell for it, again, but, I understand. I shouldn’t have done those things. No, I faced the consequences of my actions this morning, at the public stall, the whole monastery and the sewage system of the round-by villages have faced the consequences of my actions, we have all learned our lesson, so please. Forgive me now, cause, cause now I get it. I really do get it. And please make this hangover last as little as that guy did. Amen.”
Do the cross. Right hand. Now stand up and bow, not sure if I have to but why not, make it seem extra religious. Uh, did I light a candle? Yes I did, shit, I have to drink something, water — wait, it’s my big day, lemme have some fun, lemme get some of that Holy Water — well, maybe coffee will do fine for now but Holy Water is like holy and now stuck in my mind so.
Modestía is by the altar. Modestía is one of the few who get it. She’s on duty so she’ll have some holy water to spare.
Talk to Sister Modestía? YES (page x) / NO (page x+1)
“Holiest of mornings, Sister,” I say to her and look around and bitches are praying like crazy and shit.
“Good morning, Sister Parthéna, and happy name day. Bless your saint and your virginity,” and that asshole giggles then she coughs to cover the giggle.
“Thank you, Sister, hope my name day makes you rethink the sacred value of celibacy,” I reply and she smiles.
Ask for Holy Water? YES (page x) / NO (page x+1)
I continue “whatever. Do you have any of that water?”
“Sister woke up with a dried mouth?”
“Oh yea, I slept with my lips wide open so the Holy Spirit could come in and go out.”
“Did it?”
“No, I don’t think so. If it had, I don’t think it would have left me with a rough throat.”
“Did you get its number at least?”
“Nah, God intended for Spirit to fly back home.”
“Egypt?”
“Portugal.”
“I thought it was Egypt.”
“You know, maybe it was, the accents got all mixed up in the divinity of the moment.”
All the other nuns are still fucking praying as if they have no better business to attend to, but I get it, you say sorry I was praying five times in a row cause I wasn’t feeling it the first four so basically that’s why I missed all my chores and the superior nuns (?) will say understandable understandable cause of course it’s understandable we’ve all been there.
I whisper now, “Look, I have to hydrate real quick and then go do my holy shit. And you’re coming tonight, right?”
“If God leads me,” and she does a quick cross while looking up, there’s still some eye pencil on her eyes, “but I got you. Wait here.”
She disappears behind the altar and returns with a small glass bottle.
“I didn’t expect you’d ask for it, I wanted to surprise you.”
“So it’s good?”
“Are you serious? It’s fucking holy. Here. Happy name day.”
“I thank you sincerely, Sister,” and I bow, “find me after mass,” I say and she blows a kiss and God forgives her eye pencil residue.
It’s eight thirty in the morning and I’m outside the church. I can’t believe how destroyed I still am, I’m wearing my nunglasses — they are no different than regular sunglasses, but when you’re a nun everything becomes nun-coded, it’s like a fashion movement except the runways are spectacularly uneventful.
My goal for the moment is to find a nice corner somewhere in the nungarden to chug the Holy Water. What makes that water holy is Modestía’s touch, and I’m not saying this because I’m into her, what I mean is that she mixes up MDMA and 2C-B and ketamine and shit, she got the recipe from some Colombian nuns (Colombianuns, Colombnuns, for short, if I may) a few summers ago.
It takes an hour to hit — now I’m higher than His Grace — it’s the perfect time to hear some confessions. Now, don’t get too excited, nothing interesting ever happens here, most confessions are like it’s been ten years, like am I not allowed to fuck after ten years?! or eating meat during fasting or shit like that. Sometimes, though, it’s more serious.