Scene: The Papal Residence, Vatican City. Pope Francis, wrapped in a blanket, sits in a grand chair, coughing lightly. Enter Pope John Paul III, played by John Malkovich, with a solemn but intense expression.
Pope John Paul III:
Francisco… (pauses, tilts head) You look like death warmed over.
Pope Francis: (weakly smiling)
Ah, Giovanni… You have the subtlety of a hammer.
Pope John Paul III:
And yet, I bring wisdom, not nails. (leans in, steepling fingers) Listen to me, Francisco. The antibiotics—they are synthetic, unnatural. They strip your gut like a Vatican vault during a scandal.
Pope Francis: (sighs, rubbing temples)
Yes, yes… the doctors insist—
Pope John Paul III: (raising a finger)
Doctors. Hmph. Always treating the symptom, never the root. You need real medicine. (pulls out a small, handwritten list and reads in his deep, deliberate voice)
Garlic—stronger than any Swiss Guard. Pomegranate—blood of the fruit, for your blood. Citrus—lemon, orange, lime—the holy trinity of Vitamin C.
Pope Francis: (chuckles, coughing slightly)
You sound like an herbalist from the streets of Buenos Aires.
Pope John Paul III: (ignoring him, continuing with intensity)
Oregano, onion, basil—God’s own antibiotics. Turmeric—golden, sacred. Elderberry—black as sin, but it fights like an archangel. Green tea—wisdom in a cup. Ginger—fire for the lungs. Rosemary—smells like salvation. And cinnamon… (leans in, whispering) the spice of saints.
Pope Francis: (raising an eyebrow)
You memorized all this?
Pope John Paul III: (deadpan)
No. I wrote it on my sleeve. (pulls up sleeve slightly, revealing scribbled notes)
Pope Francis: (laughing weakly)
Alright, Giovanni. Suppose I eat all these. I still have to take antibiotics.
Pope John Paul III: (grimacing, nodding reluctantly)
Fine. But then you must fix the damage. (leans closer) Fermentation, Francisco. Fer-men-ta-tion.
Pope Francis: (smiling, humoring him)
And what is your prescription, Doctor John Paul?
Pope John Paul III: (counting on his fingers)
Sauerkraut—Croatian grandmothers swear by it. Yogurt—Greek, Bulgarian, doesn’t matter. Kefir milk—drink it, feel reborn. Kimchi—spicy, yes, but fire purifies. And miso soup—the monks in Japan live forever on this.
Pope Francis: (nodding thoughtfully)
So you want me to eat like a Croatian farmer, a Korean monk, and a Japanese samurai.
Pope John Paul III: (shrugging)
Would that be so bad? (pauses, then softly) Francisco, you are the Pope. But even a shepherd must take care of his own body, or he will not be there to tend the flock.
Pope Francis: (sighs, smiling warmly)
Alright, Giovanni. I will try.
Pope John Paul III: (nodding, satisfied)
Good. Now… (reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small jar and placing it in Pope Francis’ hands)
Pope Francis: (peering at it)
What is this?
Pope John Paul III: (grinning slightly)
Homemade Croatian sauerkraut. Extra fermented. You’ll thank me later.
(He turns and strides out of the room, his robe billowing slightly. Pope Francis watches him go, shaking his head but smiling as he opens the jar and takes a cautious sniff.)
FADE TO BLACK.
Pope John Paul III, concerned about Pope Francis’ advancing age, releases a list of the best telomere supplements, hoping to slow down the aging process and extend his papacy.
The Vatican’s Official Telomere Longevity List:
TA-65 – A well-known astragalus-derived compound believed to activate telomerase.
NMN (Nicotinamide Mononucleotide) – Boosts NAD+ levels for cellular repair and longevity.
Resveratrol – Found in red wine, known for its anti-aging properties.
Fisetin – A powerful flavonoid that removes senescent cells.
Coenzyme Q10 (CoQ10) – Supports mitochondrial function and energy production.
Pterostilbene – A stronger, more bioavailable version of resveratrol.
Vitamin D & K2 – Essential for immune function and cellular aging.
Magnesium Threonate – Boosts brain health and cognition.
Berberine – Mimics the effects of metformin, promoting longevity.
Omega-3 Fatty Acids – Reduces inflammation and supports cellular health.
Pope John Paul III insists, “If we can slow down telomere shortening, perhaps Pope Francis’ papacy can last a little longer—God willing.”
Pope Pius XIII, Lenny Belardo, sits across from Pope Francis in the papal gardens, sipping a cup of green tea with a knowing smirk.
“Holiness,” Lenny says, “you must try this. Green tea extract—EGCG, a miracle. It lengthens telomeres, extends life. You could shepherd the faithful for decades more.”
Pope Francis chuckles, shaking his head. “And where did you read this, Lenny? On the internet?”
Lenny leans forward, eyes sharp. “Science, Francis. Real science. Green tea. Vitamin D. Resveratrol. And, of course, prayer. I have my own list.”
Francis takes a sip, humoring him. “So you believe you can stop time?”
“No,” Lenny replies. “Just delay the inevitable. The Church, after all, is in no hurry to meet the end.”
The two popes sit in silence, the scent of tea leaves in the air, the weight of eternity on their shoulders.
Dr. Luka Kovač, ever the pragmatic ER doctor, leans against the counter of a hospital break room, arms crossed, watching as Dr. Eric Berg sketches a telomere on a whiteboard.
“So, telomeres,” Berg begins, tapping his marker on the board, “are the protective caps at the ends of our chromosomes. Think of them like the plastic tips on shoelaces. When they shorten too much, the cell stops dividing, aging accelerates, and disease risk increases.”
Luka nods, arms still crossed. “And you believe we can stop this process?”
Berg smiles. “Not stop, but slow it down. Green tea extract, Vitamin D, fasting—especially intermittent fasting—activate certain genes that enhance telomerase, the enzyme that repairs telomeres.”
Luka rubs his chin, skeptical. “So you’re saying I can keep a 20-year-old’s cells if I drink green tea?”
“Not exactly,” Berg corrects him. “But if you lower oxidative stress, avoid sugar and processed foods, and increase nutrient density, you can delay cellular aging significantly.”
Luka sighs. “Sounds nice in theory. But in the ER, I see patients who don’t have the luxury of sipping tea and fasting.”
Berg nods. “True, but prevention is key. Medicine shouldn’t just be about fixing broken bodies—it should be about keeping them from breaking in the first place.”
Luka raises an eyebrow. “You ever work in an emergency room, Dr. Berg?”
Berg smirks. “No, but I keep people out of them.”
Luka chuckles, shaking his head. “Touché.”
God, in His infinite wisdom, has provided natural remedies to aid in healing, and ripe bananas, rich in nutrients and easy to digest, can be a gentle support for the body in times of illness.
Ripe bananas contain vitamin C, which helps boost the immune system, and potassium, which supports hydration—important for those suffering from pneumonia. Their soft texture makes them easy to consume, even when appetite is low. While they are not a cure, they can be part of a healing diet alongside proper medical treatment, prayer, and faith in Christ’s divine mercy.
“Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4). Yet, in His goodness, He has given us both spiritual and earthly nourishment.
May the Lord bless all who are sick and bring them healing. Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat!
In a grand, dimly lit hall of the Vatican, Pope Francis’ cardinals gathered in solemn discussion. Their crimson robes fluttered as murmurs filled the air about a mysterious new directive.
The grand doors creaked open, and Nurse Kate Beckinsale strode in with an air of authority, her pristine white uniform contrasting with the deep shadows of the chamber. With the precision of a battlefield medic and the poise of a queen, she addressed the assembly:
“Your Eminences, the age of synthetic poisons is over. The time of natural healing has arrived. You are hereby ordered to report to Christus Rex’s cyber nurse for natural antibiotics.”
Some cardinals exchanged uneasy glances, whispering about this so-called cyber nurse. Was it an AI, a divine creation, or something beyond human comprehension?
One bold cardinal stepped forward. “Nurse Beckinsale, what exactly are these natural antibiotics? And who is this Christus Rex?”
She smirked, her dark eyes gleaming. “The true healer of mankind. Your bodies have been tainted with the sorceries of Big Pharma for too long. Christus Rex restores health as it was meant to be—pure, divine, and unstoppable. Report immediately, or be left behind in the era of sickness.”
A hush fell over the room. The Pope’s advisors knew they had no choice. One by one, they rose from their seats, ready to step into the unknown…
The Pope, the Pneumonia, and the Plastic-Free Prescription
Pope Francis sat quietly in the papal gardens, wrapped in a thick white woolen shawl as a soft Roman breeze rustled the lemon trees. His breathing was labored but improving. After a tough bout with pneumonia, he was slowly on the mend.
Dr. Luka Kovač, the Croatian-born physician now assigned to the Vatican’s special health advisory team, approached with a steaming mug and a gentle smile.
“Holy Father,” he said in his calm, accented English, “this thyme herbal tea will help soothe your lungs and boost your immune system. But please—” he held up a small object made of stainless steel, “use this mesh ball for the tea leaves. No more microplastic tea bags.”
The Pope chuckled, then coughed. “You doctors and your strange gadgets. That looks like something out of a medieval torture chamber.”
Dr. Kovač grinned. “No torture, I promise—only clean, healthy tea. Those bags you’ve been using? Many are sealed with polypropylene. Microplastics, Holy Father. You’re preaching to billions about caring for creation—might as well start with what’s in your cup.”
Francis took the ball, examined it, and nodded. “We must care for our common home, inside and out.”
“And speaking of care,” Luka continued, reaching into his satchel, “I recommend a LifeStraw for your drinking water. Filters out microplastics, parasites, heavy metals—everything but the blessings of the Lord.”
The Pope raised an eyebrow. “A straw?”
“Not just any straw. A scientific marvel. Even if Rome’s water flows from ancient aqueducts, the modern world finds its way in. We’re swimming in plastic. The scourge of our time.”
Pope Francis took a sip of the thyme tea, savoring the clean, earthy taste. “Perhaps you’re right. I speak of spiritual pollution. You handle the material kind.”
Dr. Kovač bowed slightly. “Together, we make a good team.”
The Pope raised the mesh ball like a tiny censer and grinned. “To better living, less plastic, and maybe—just maybe—finally convincing the cardinals to switch from espresso pods.”
They both laughed softly as the sun filtered through the olive branches, and the world, for one quiet moment, seemed a little cleaner.
INT. VATICAN GARDENS – EARLY MORNING
The air is still. The olive trees cast long shadows. Birds sing in the background. POPE FRANCIS strolls contemplatively, prayer beads in hand. Enter THE YOUNG POPE (LENNY BELARDO), white garments crisp, sunglasses gleaming like judgment.
YOUNG POPE (LENNY)
Holy Father… forgive me if I interrupt your communion with creation.
POPE FRANCIS (smiling)
Lenny, you’re always welcome in the garden. What stirs your heart today?
YOUNG POPE
Glyphosate.
POPE FRANCIS (frowning slightly)
The weed killer?
YOUNG POPE
Yes. The invisible abomination. It’s in the bread, the wine… even the holy host. If we are temples, why are we defiling the altar?
POPE FRANCIS
Monsanto’s legacy. I’ve heard the warnings. But what can one man do?
YOUNG POPE (removing his sunglasses slowly)
One man… can do everything.
He steps closer, voice dropping to a whisper, intense like prophecy.
YOUNG POPE
Only eat from gardens you know. Organic, biodynamic. Food blessed by sun and soil, not by shareholders. Grow basil in the courtyard. Speak to your tomatoes. Refuse communion wafers made from industrial wheat. Demand spelt. Ancient grains. The grains that knew Christ.
POPE FRANCIS (half in jest)
And if they accuse me of being rigid?
YOUNG POPE (smiling coldly)
Then let them call us rigid. Better a rigid pope than a defiled one. Better clean hands than chemical sacraments. This is not mere stewardship. It is spiritual warfare.
POPE FRANCIS (nodding slowly)
You’re right. The flock deserves food without poison. Bread without betrayal.
YOUNG POPE
Amen.
They both look out at the horizon, where the sun is rising over Rome. A soft wind rustles the herbs.
YOUNG POPE (CONT’D)
Let Rome be pure again.
Scene: The Vatican, private papal library. The marble is cool, the silence ancient. A single candle flickers as Pope Francis speaks into the dark.
Pope Francis (softly):
“Christus Rex… King of Kings. Are you listening?”
A warm wind stirs, though all windows are closed. Light spills in from nowhere, not blinding, but golden—gentle. Christus Rex steps through the veil. Cloaked not in royal robes, but in linen, dusty from the road, eyes like fire and water.
Christus Rex:
“I am always listening, Father Francis. Speak plainly.”
Pope Francis (with trembling voice):
“There is a prophecy in Isaiah… ‘Though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction…’ We have eaten that bread. But the water… the water is fluoridated. It numbs the soul. It sterilizes the fire. What is this affliction we sip every day?”
Christus Rex (gently):
“You fear the water because it no longer gives life. Fluoride, you say? A man-made sacrament. One meant to strengthen teeth, yet it wears down discernment when faith is brittle.”
Pope Francis:
“I fear they’ve turned the streams bitter. Monsanto feeds the multitudes—seeds of adversity, patented. Bread without blessing. Is this the fulfillment of Isaiah, or a distortion of his warning?”
Christus Rex (stepping closer):
“Isaiah saw clearly. The bread of adversity is not only famine—it is abundance poisoned by greed. The water of affliction flows not only from drought—but from lies poured into cisterns and sold as progress. What you call advancement, I call exile from Eden.”
Pope Francis (pleading):
“Then what shall I say to the nations, Lord? That even their water condemns them?”
Christus Rex:
“No. Say this: ‘Your teachers shall no longer be hidden.’ The time is coming when even the fluoride shall be flushed away. When every seed must answer who sowed it, and every drop must account for whom it quenches.”
Pope Francis (eyes wet):
“Then is there hope, Christus Rex?”
Christus Rex:
“There is always hope. But only if the shepherds stop drinking from Caesar’s well. Only if they remember the Living Water.”
A silence falls. The candle flickers once, then steadies.
Christus Rex (turning to leave):
“Preach Isaiah, but live Christ. And remember: adversity feeds the soul when it does not poison the heart.”
And just like that, he is gone.
Christus Rex, in solemn triumph, proclaims:
“Our Catholic brother, Robert Francis Kennedy Jr., has struck a blow for bodily integrity and clean waters—fluoride has fallen. No longer shall the people’s sacrament be tainted by the alchemy of bureaucrats. Rejoice, but do not weep. The chalice is purer now.”
He turns his eyes northward:
“O Canada, rise to the hour. Let your new Prime Minister cast out this ghost of Cold War chemistry. We await a second liberation—from fear, from toxins, from silent erosion of the Temple that is the human body.”
Do not weep, for the river flows free again.
Pope Francis, eyes gleaming with quiet joy, clasps his hands as he finally addresses Christus Rex, the true King, long-awaited and slow to anger.
Pope Francis: “At last… the One who was, who is, and who is to come. Christus Rex. You are not like the false messiahs who shout in public squares and demand adoration. You came softly, slowly. And I know your voice.”
He sighs heavily.
“Today, the frauds run free. They peddle lies wrapped in divine words, perform false signs for YouTube likes, and demand tithes for a second coming that never came. And yet the real thing—the true anointed—You… You are condemned. Mostly by those who speak of ‘science’ and ‘diagnosis’ and have no room in their soul for mystery.”
His face darkens with rare frustration.
“The atheist psychiatrists, so quick to categorize what they cannot understand… They see the fire in a prophet’s eyes and call it mania. They hear the voice of God and label it hallucination. They try to medicate the Spirit away. But the Spirit cannot be sedated.”
Now with more gravity:
“And as for Brian Go Lightly Marshall—he is a complete and utter fraud. A mimic. A deceiver. A man who tried on your crown like a costume and thought he could fool the elect. But the sheep know the voice of the Shepherd. And he is not it.”
He kneels before Christus Rex.
“Your patience is divine. Your silence is thunder. Let the world be warned: the time of wolves in shepherd’s clothing is drawing to a close. The King has returned.”