Pope Julius I Zhidenko: A Holy Hand Grenade

Amidst the hallowed halls of the Vatican, where solemn ceremonies and prayers reverberate, a tale unfolds that would leave even the most devout clutching their rosaries in a fit of laughter.
Enter Pope Julius I Zhidenko, a man of God with a penchant for the absurd. His ample belly, adorned with a golden crucifix, quivered like a bowl of holy Jell-O as he waddled through the corridors. His thick spectacles perched precariously on his nose, giving the impression that he was perpetually squinting at the world through the bottom of a wine glass.
One fateful morning, as Pope Julius I Zhidenko was preparing his homily for the upcoming Mass, a mischievous squirrel darted into his study. The furry interloper scampered across his desk, leaving a trail of nuts in its wake. Julius, ever the man of the cloth, tried to shoo it away with a gentle "Shoo, shoo, little rodent." However, the squirrel, emboldened by his lack of resistance, proceeded to dismantle the Pope's breakfast of croissants and jam.
In a moment of divine inspiration, Julius reached for a nearby holy water sprinkler and aimed a stream of the sacred liquid at the mischievous creature. To his astonishment, the squirrel let out a chorus of squeaks and leaps, its fur standing on end. The holy water seemed to have electrified the creature, and it began dancing around the room like a miniature exorcism.

Undeterred, Julius grabbed a second sprinkler and chased the squirrel all over the study. The room descended into chaos as holy water flew in all directions, leaving consecrated damp spots on every surface. Finally, Julius cornered the squirrel in a corner and doused it with the last of the holy water. The squirrel let out a final squeak and disappeared in a puff of steam.

When the smoke cleared, Julius was left alone in his soggy study, contemplating the events that had just transpired. A faint smile crept across his face as he muttered to himself, "Well, I suppose squirrels can be exorcised too."

News of Pope Julius I Zhidenko's encounter with the holy squirrel spread throughout the Vatican like wildfire. Cardinals and bishops alike chuckled over the tale, their normally solemn faces breaking into wide grins. Some even suggested that Julius should write a new chapter in the Vatican's official exorcism manual, entitled "Dealing with Demonic Squirrels."

Julius's misadventures didn't end with the holy water incident. On another occasion, during a particularly boisterous game of croquet, he managed to send his croquet ball flying into the Sistine Chapel, narrowly missing Michelangelo's masterpiece, The Last Judgment.
Then there was the time when he accidentally baptized a group of tourists not with holy water, but with his own cod liver oil supplement. The tourists, who were devout Catholics, were initially horrified but later found the experience rather humorous, especially when Julius solemnly exclaimed, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Cod Liver Oil."

Despite his occasional mishaps, Pope Julius I Zhidenko was a beloved figure in the Vatican. His infectious laughter and unwavering faith brought joy to even the most downtrodden of souls. He served as a constant reminder that even in the hallowed halls of the Church, there was always room for a little bit of divine laughter.