What the Hell is going on?

      The Monsignor's cellphone buzzed. He was deep into Gen.
    Her lovely pale butt giggled with every thrust of the Priest.
    There was a full moon which cast a blue pale light in the
    cemetery. The Monsignor looked at his messages as Gen cleaned
    his clock with her tongue. It was Ritter. A very unstable astronomer
    from the Vatican Institute of Astronomy.

      "Do you know what time it is here?" Monsignor Placid texted.
    Gen was strangling the Monsignor's package with his Rosary beads.
    "They found another magic carpet in Syria. This could be Martian."
    Ritter texted. "Jesus!" the Priest exclaimed with a muffled gasp as
    he cast his seed upon the hallowed ground. "I will be in the Vatican
    on Wednesday. Don't tell the Pope about the carpet. He's having a
    nervous breakdown."

      "Well? Who do you want me to be now?" Gen smiled. She was dressed
    as a police woman with a riding crop. "Gen I need your skills. Can you conjure
    a Martian?" Fr. Placid whispered.  "That's an odd fetish." she smirked back.
    Gen sat down on the wet grass in front of a family plot. She lit a candle and began to
    sway backwards with her hair swaying.


        "X=34:dadda." Gen muttered.


    A mist drifted about the cemetery. The Monsignor felt a chill as a tall man stepped
    out of the mist. His eyes were black and his skin as pale as the moon.
    "Are you a Martian?" Fr. Placid's legs trembled. The tall specter bowed.
    "Will Syria bring us closer to your people?" Fr. Placid voice trembled.
    A hologram of flying saucers leaving Mars for Earth explained the Martian exodus.
    Mars had been as vibrant as Earth, but wars had burned off their atmosphere.
    The hologram showed a blackened Earth after many wars.

        Monsignor Placid fell to his knees and pledged on his holy vows to stop
    these wars. The Martian raised his hand and pointed at the mushroom cloud
    rising on the horizon. The Priest grabbed his rosary beads and sobbed.
    Gen shook his shoulders, "It is only a dream. The ghost has gone."
    "Jesus! Gen. Your witchcraft will be the death of me." Pastor Placid coughed.
    Gen hugged her client, "Do you need anything else?"
    The Priest gave Gen $500 dollars. He would need some rest for his long
    journey to Rome.+

    999