ArcaMax

I saw a priest in the coffee shop Wednesday morning.

He was wearing a cassock, the long black robe with buttons down the front that Catholic priests wore everywhere until Vatican II.

The cassock might mean he's what they call a "trad Catholic," which is short for "traditional Catholic" and means you act the way every Catholic did in 1964, which is when I learned to be an altar boy, in Latin.

I introduced myself to the priest and, God help me, because I think I'm funny, I asked him a question.

"Do you have any inside information on who they're going to pick as the next pope?" I asked him. "You know, in case I want to get a bet down."

God bless him, he laughed.

"What do you think?" he said.

"God knows," I said. "If you go online, the bookmakers have Parolin out front, with Tagle the second favorite."

"I was surprised when Francis was elected," the priest said. "I'd never heard of him."

I considered the possibility of a dark horse.

"They won't elect anyone today," the priest said. "It's just the first vote."

"Do you know it's a sin to bet on who is going to be pope?" the priest said.

I was going to ask him why, but his bacon, egg and cheese sandwich and coffee came up, and he left.

"Don't worry, Father," I said. "I don't have a bet down."

I took my ham, egg and cheese to a corner table.

"My God," I thought. "What if he doesn't want people to bet on the pope race because he doesn't want the odds to shift?"

I told the boys at the bar about it that night, and John, who doesn't have a job, laughed.

"I know that priest," John said. "He's got a parish out in the suburbs. My house is bigger than his church. It's like he's saying Mass in my garage."

It's true John has a big house, and you should always listen to a guy with a big house and no job. He's probably going to jail soon, but he knows something about money. What I think is that John knows something about selling things by the gram. Doesn't matter. I don't have any money down on grams, either.

"It's probably a sin because it's disrespectful," Frank, who delivers mail, said. "What are you gonna do, go to the casino and say, 'Gimme $20 on the pope's nose?'"

Frank's wife goes to church, so he knows stuff from her. Also, he has a small house and his truck is nine years old. God makes honest people poor so you can see how honest they are. Frank's not gonna do anything bad to get money, and next year his truck is gonna be 10 years old.

It's like my pension. It took me 30 years of ruining my digestion in a newsroom to earn it, and it's about 20% of what I made in a month when I was working, but I earned it, so I can be proud. My God, I can be proud.

John called the casino.

"They don't take bets on popes," he said. "I know a guy, if you really wanna bet."

I did not.

"There's only one difference between the pope race and a horse race," I told John.

"Yeah? What?" John said.

"The guy who wins pope usually he dies in office," I said. "But if he retires, they don't put him out to stud."

To find out more about Marc Dion, and read words by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit www.creators.com. Dion's latest book, a collection of his best columns, is called "Mean Old Liberal." It is available in paperback from Amazon.com, and for Nook, Kindle and iBooks.