Culinary Adventures of Seymour Recipe, Part IV Making Money

Mark Twain once said “Poverty is nothing to be ashamed of, but it is damn inconvenient.” Sister Seymour was never ashamed about his oath of poverty, but he was learning really fast that it is damn inconvenient. Poverty in the convent was one thing but out here in the big world it was quite entirely another. Money talks! His last two attempts at sponging met with complete disaster. He has had nothing to eat since leaving Scott’s Land two days ago. The first day he came upon a long line of people that appeared to be moving slowly toward some objective that was far ahead and out of his sight. “What is going on?” he asked one of the people in the line. “We are here for some food” was the reply. Seymour thought about it for a second and inquired “What’s the deal?” The fellow in line had been regarding Seymour with a wary eye not quite sure what to make of him. However, he was more concerned with his place in line than the fact he was talking to a guy in a nun’s habit. The fellow informed the nun “Up front there is a nun...a real one.....that comes every day and passes out food to the less fortunate of us.” “That is a very generous and noble thing to do” Seymour commented. “Who is the nun?” he asked. “We call her...Mother Terrazzo.....and she is the kindest, most caring person on this earth.” Seymour was impressed. The man continued “She is like a saint to us and feeds the poor, starving and homeless without complaint.” Wow, Seymour thought, I fit into all three of those categories so I might rate a hoagie! So Seymour found the end of the line and took up his place. The column moved with agonizingly slow speed. He could hear the growling of stomachs all around him which seemed to only worsen his hunger. As the line proceeded around a bend in the path Sister Seymour could see an old and frail nun handing out what appeared to be apples. He had hoped that maybe the hoagies were at another food station to which he would be directed when they realized that he fit into all three qualifying categories. The person behind him in line nudged Seymour and said with an adoring voice “That is our wonderful Mother Terrazzo.” Mother Terrazzo appeared to be about three feet tall and was very old and frail. Upon closer inspection Seymour could see that Mother Terrazzo was not just three feet tall but rather was stoop shouldered. Probably from carrying all the food. “Some people have all the luck”...Sister Seymour thought to himself. He could also see now that Mother Terrazzo was wearing a blue scapula over a white dress with a white coif and white veil. Sister Seymour mused “Quite stylish......maybe she will give me some shopping tips.”

As Seymour drew closer to Mother Terrazzo he noticed that she was giving him the once over as she handed out the apples. He felt that his was now the appropriate time to give the nun- to- nun recognition signal that he had been taught at the convent of His Undeniable Majestic Presence. So Sister Seymour placed his thumbs in his ears and waggled his fingers at Mother Terrazzo. Mother Terrazzo looked at Seymour through ancient sunken eyes and turned to an associate and whispered what appeared to be instructions as the associate scampered swiftly away. Seymour thought he was able to hear her and believed the associate was instructed to “get the whole hoagie.” Sister Seymour could not believe the good fortune that was about to befall him. He was starving and instead of apples like the others were getting he was going to get a whole hoagie all to himself. Which actually, he decided, was cause for concern. What if the others tried to take from him out of jealousy? He would need protection so he could eat in peace. Security as it were. His thoughts were interrupted when a voice somewhere behind him said “Oh, Oh, something is up.” Seymour turned and asked why they thought something was up and the man pointed and said “Here comes the old fogey with his Dobermans.” Sure enough there was an old man restraining two large, snarling, growling dogs and coming toward Mother Terrazzo. “What’s the problem, Mother?” the old man shouted. “We have a f*@king comedian in the line!” she yelled. “A real sicko....let Fang and Mauler tear him a new a%#hole!” Sister Seymour looked around trying to see who the sicko was and said a silent prayer for his safety as these dogs looked as serious as Sister Moonbeam at certain times during the month. Then Seymour noticed that the line had evaporated and he was standing alone with Mother Terrazzo pointing at him. “Best be getting on, you pervert” the old man was saying. “These dogs ain’t eaten in days and they are mighty hungry!” Seymour was weighing the situation and realized that neither had he eaten in days and.....maybe....just maybe...he could take the dogs. He was fast and not without martial arts skills. Lot of meat on those dogs. The hungry predators eyed each other.....all salivating. The dogs advanced slowly. Seymour prayed for guidance and heard the old man yell “KILL!” Seymour next heard a voice in his inner ear. He was sure it was His Undeniable Majestic Presence providing him with the guidance he had prayed for. The voice instructed: “RUN FOR YOUR LIFE YOU F&%CKING IDIOT!” Seymour hiked up his skirt, put his nun shoes in gear and ran as fast as he could. Faster even than his escape from the convent. He looked over his shoulder to see the saintly Mother Terrazzo holding her hand up but with only the middle finger extended. It must be their nun-to-nun signal thought Seymour. He could also hear Mother Terrazzo screaming “Run you worthless piece of sh#t.......don’t ever come back or I will rip your manhood off and shove it up your a@%.” Sister Seymour could see Mother Terrazzo go back to blessing the people and handing out apples. He had to admit that Mother Terrazzo was a kind and generous nun and a true credit to her vocation.


Sister Seymour’s second disastrous attempt at panhandling came earlier in the day. He had encountered a man and what appeared to be his daughter walking hand in hand on the same road as Seymour. The child looked to be six or seven and was cute as a button. She had blond hair and wore it in pigtails with bright pink ribbons and she was carrying a basket full of freshly cut flowers. It was obvious that they had no food with them but Seymour figured he might be able to beg for some money and buy something to eat at the next town. He approached the father and daughter and said “I am Sister Seymour from the convent of His Undeniable Majestic Presence and haven’t eaten in two days.” They were looking at him and then at each other and then back at him. Seymour continued “I was hoping that you may have some extra money I could have so that I may eat.” “Get a job, Deadbeat” snapped the little girl. “If there ever was extra money I would get it. Right, Daddy?” “Yes, Precious” he replied. As they pushed past Sister Seymour the little girl looked back and stuck her tongue out as the starving nun. The little girl was wise beyond her years Seymour conceded. The painful and undeniable truth that she pointed out was as plain as the zit on Sister Seymour’s nose. He needed a job, but how does one go about getting a job? If he was going to make it outside of the convent, he had better learn really fast how to make money.


As Seymour contemplated his thorny predicament his attention was drawn to a large group of people walking his way. They carried what appeared to be their belongings. Sister Seymour inquired as to what they were doing and one of the travelers announced “We are escaping poverty.” Seymour’s ears perked up upon hearing this and asked “Where are you going then?” “We are going to prosperity” the fellow informed the nun. This was obviously a sign from His Undeniable Majestic Presence. Seymour rationalized that if all these people were going to the same place than the job market would be glutted and the salaries low. However, the place they were leaving would have its work force considerably reduced thereby making jobs better paying and more available. This was brilliant he told himself and with considerable exuberance he jumped straight up and clapped his hands over his head and yelled “Way to go!” Sister Seymour took the path that the other people had taken but in the opposite direction. He was going to where they just left and he was going to make money. With a new lease on life and a confident spring in his step Sister Seymour set off job hunting.


Seymour was humming a Gregorian Chant as he made his way along the path when he encountered another group of folks approaching from the direction he was going. “Escaping poverty?” he asked. “Why yes” was the reply from an attractive young woman. “Going to prosperity?” he asked again. “Yes again” the young woman informed him. She continued “If you were smart you would turn around and come with us.” Sure... Seymour thought to himself. Do I look like I was born yesterday? They don’t want me to find the good jobs they must be leaving. “Thanks for the advice but my path is set and true” he confided confidently. “OK, suit yourself. Poverty is about three miles in the direction you are heading. We are going to Prosperity which is about a day’s journey.” Seymour was perplexed. The young woman made it sound as if poverty and prosperity were places. “I am looking for a job” he stated. The attractive young woman shrugged her shoulders and asked “you’re looking for a job in poverty?” Seymour acknowledged that he was. “Well then you need to see Manuel Dawlers. He is the richest man in Poverty and owns and controls everything...even jobs.” Seymour thanked the young woman for the information and continued on his way to Poverty.



He could tell he was nearing his destination because there were a lot more buildings and houses along the way. Seymour was amazed, however, that all the buildings looked shabby and unkempt and some were even boarded up. He started to question his decision to come to Poverty until he saw a road sign that said “Welcome to Poverty, Population 795.” But the number had been struck through and another number, which had also been struck through and finally the number of 295 now indicated the population. He was elated! He quickly did the math, 795 minus 295 equaled 116. The way he reckoned it there was over 100 job opportunities he could choose from in Poverty. This was going to be like taking candy from a baby......he would be making money in no time at all. Seymour remembered what the young lady had told him about needing to coordinate with Manuel Dawlers before taking employment. How did he find Mr. Dawlers was his next thought. He passed more ramshackle buildings and noticed the streets were virtually vacant. This was good he thought......no traffic means an easier commute to work. Sister Seymour proceeded deeper into the town and saw nothing that would lead him to Mr. Dawlers. A lone figure was walking nearby and Seymour called out “How do I find someone in this town?” He didn’t want to tip his hand that he was job hunting so he didn’t ask directly about Dawlers. The person pointed to a booth of some sort and simply called back “The white pages.” The nun walked to the booth and pulled on the door handle only to see that the door opened in a very odd manner. Like it was collapsing on itself. He was amazed at the technology of the world outside the convent. Once the door was open Sister Seymour stepped inside and immediately noticed that the odor in the booth was very similar to that of his chamber pot. Obviously he had found one of those men’s rooms that McTavish had told him about and just in the nick of time. Sister Seymour relieved himself all the while wondering why they had full length windows in a men’s room. He located a book which had both white and yellow pages and his problem was immediately solved. On the cover of the book was a picture of a portly man with a mustache and slick backed hair with a cigar protruding from his mouth. The caption to the picture read “Need a loan? See Manuel Dawlers for details.” There was an address and a map to that address below the picture. Mr. Dawlers lived at 400 Moola Way and there was also a note with an arrow that said “You are here.” Easy enough, he thought, especially since he excelled in Land Navigation Courses at the convent. He smiled recalling how he never got lost there. Sister Seymour looked in each direction and upon seeing no one he ripped the cover off the white/yellow pages book. Next stop....Mr Dawlers. Yowza!!

Sister Seymour started out in search of Mr. Dawlers’ house with both the photo of him and the map that had the arrow indicating “YOU ARE HERE.” He felt this was good business sense since he may just pass Mr. Dawlers on the street and it might impress him if Seymour recognized him. However, as he followed the map to 400 Moola Way he became concerned that the arrow always indicated that he was in the same place. So where is “YOU ARE HERE?” Seymour fretted. Was he making no progress whatsoever? The scenery changed as he moved along but the arrow never moved. Must be broken he reasoned. Sister Seymour finally arrived at Moola Way and finding 400 was no problem since it was the only house on the street. It was a huge mansion on a hill with lush gardens and many shade trees. The yard was enormous and completely enclosed by a stone wall about fifteen feet high. It made him shudder as it reminded him of the convent he had just escaped from. He admonished himself for thinking negative thoughts at this most important moment of his mission. Looking around the nun spotted a large wrought iron gate with a small pillar just outside along the side of the driveway. Seymour was looking for someone to speak to and help him locate Mr. Dawlers. Then a terrible thought hit him. “What if Mr. Dawlers isn’t at home?” He became a little nervous and desperately searched for anyone that could let him in. He saw some men tending to the lawn but they were too far away to notice Seymour. Then he noticed some writing on the pillar. It was two words “CALL BUTTON.” Sister Seymour thought for a moment then walked to the gate grabbing two rungs and sticking his face partially through two more rungs. “BUTTON, BUTTON!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “THIS IS SISTER SEYMOUR AND I AM HERE TO SEE MR. DAWLERS.” Nothing happened and Button didn’t show up. He tried again with the same results. Feeling quite dejected he was about to give up when a disembodied voice emanated from the pillar. “May I help you . . . Sister?” The pillar inquired. “Yes and thank you, Button, I am Sister Seymour from the convent of His Undeniable Majestic Presence and I have come to see Mr. Dawlers.” “Mr. Dawdlers does not see men dressed as nuns on Tuesdays so you will have to make an appointment” the pillar advised. “Tomorrow?” Seymour asked with disappointment. “Try in about two weeks” the pillar snarled. “Two weeks” Seymour gasped. “I was told that I had to see Mr. Dawlers if I wanted to make money to survive” he whined. The pillar was silent. “You are here to make money?” it inquired. “Yes and I am very eager to do just that” Sister Seymour confirmed. “One moment” the pillar instructed. “Thank you, Button”the nun said gratefully. After what seemed to be an eternity, the pillar instructed Sister Seymour to go around to the back of the mansion to the servants’ entrance and wait. The gates swung open wide and Seymour passed through gratefully relived. He had gotten his foot in the door just the way Sister Pushy had taught him. Sister Pushy had been a door-to-door vacuum sales person before coming to the convent and had boogoos of experience getting her foot in the door. However she was also very obese, so much so that behind her massive back the other nuns cruelly called her “Pushy Galore.” Seymour wondered if St. Hurley could have been an inspiration to her had he not gotten lost.

The gates stood completely open now. Sister Seymour looked up the long walkway to the mansion and then looked behind him at the squaller of Poverty. He was about to leave a world of no money and enter the world of Manny Dawlers. Seymour patted himself on the back and proceeded through the gates.



Sister Moonbeam sat at her desk in the office of the barracks that were built to house the strike team that would apprehend Sister Seymour. An unanticipated glitch had befallen the team and now Moonbeam was trying to figure out how to fix it. When selecting her team she hadn’t factored Sister Mister’s significant strength into the equation. Mister was winning all the intra squad competitions and this was causing a morale problem for Sisters Ho and Alfie. All around Sister Mister’s bunk area were first place ribbons for sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups, shot put and javelin throw. She even had the blue ribbons for the 10K run and the pie eating contest. Clearly easy to see why Ho and Alfie were a bit dejected with only having second and third place ribbons to show for all their hard efforts. Sister Ho was particularly down because Sister Mister beat her in a competition that Sister Ho fully expected to win........the pole vault. Moonbeam knew that she had to do something to turn the situation around and restore morale or they could face disaster on their mission. She couldn’t ask Sister Mister to dog it as that would be unfair to her and just cause another problem with morale. Sister Moonbeam could try to smooth it over with Ho and Alfie by pointing out that Mister was more than likely going to have to be the one to take Sister Seymour down when they finally caught up with the fugitive. This probably wasn’t a good idea as it may result in allegations of “teacher’s pet.” No, she needed to change something and do it creatively to get everyone back on track. But what could she change? Then it came to her like a bolt of lightning! The quickest way to improve morale was to change leadership. Sister Moonbeam declared that she would change her name and they would all get a fresh start with a new leader! It was brilliant!! It was clearly the inspiration of His Undeniable Majestic Presence and she gave quiet thanks. She would need a name that inspired confidence and loyalty. A name that would be synonymous with success and victory. A name that people would follow even to the gates of hell. Names like Washington, Alexander the Great, Napoleon. Names that by their very mention sends goose bumps down the spines of friend and foe alike. But she also needed something more contemporary, something the team could relate to. Moonbeam remembered hearing about powerful people with unique names that brought them astounding success in the outside world. Names like Snoop Dog, LL Cool J and Fiddy Cent. These were obviously role models and emulating them was a guarantee of success. But there was one more name she remembered and this person was the epitome of a champion that everyone would look up to and follow. P. Diddy was his name. P. Diddy, P. Diddy she said over and over again. This was a very serious moment as Sister Moonbeam was about to change her name and that name had to be an inspiration to the team and all they dealt with along their way searching for Sister Seymour. What would it be? Finally she asked for guidance and almost immediately the perfect new name was revealed to her. She smiled because it was simplicity personified yet radiated power and glory. Moonbeam would now be known as: “Stinky V”!!




To Be Continued