Note: Written in response to a friend's LJ prompt, I apparently reduced several people to helpless laughter after they read it. For anyone who's watched the FUNimation dub of TRINITY BLOOD, if you can imagine Troy Baker and Jason Douglas doing these voices, it makes it even funnier. (If you haven't heard them, swing by my LiveJournal, and click on the link TRINITY BLOOD QUOTES on the lefthand side of the page. The ones you should listen to are "Abel the Klutz" and "Meet William Walter Wordsworth." You'll get the idea.)
"Father Nightroad? It's time for lun-" Father Wordsworth's voice came to an abrupt stop as the bathroom door opened and a black blur came streaking out, knocking the Professor off his feet as it moved past him into the hallway.
In the moment or two it took him to land on the floor in an undignified heap, he became aware of a wailing voice drifting up from the stairwell.
Taking a moment while sitting down on the floor to try and figure out what was going on, the Professor sighed, pulled out his ever-present pipe, tapped some tobacco into it, and lit it, taking a thoughtful puff.
From where he sat, he considered the wreckage that was Abel Nightroad's room. The priest's normally clean room was an absolute disaster area - books were all over the place, drawers had been turned inside out, the closet was half-emptied, and the bed looked as though someone had tried to rip the sheets off it in one go.
And glinting on what he could see of the desk was a small pile of golden wire and shattered glass.
The Professor heaved a sigh and got to his feet, making his way into the room. Casually tossing stuff out of his way, he righted a chair and took a seat, then began to count aloud.
"One... two... three... four... five..."
As soon as he reached twenty, he heard a loud BANG in the distance, as though someone had practically slammed a door off its hinges, followed promptly by another loud wail of dismay.
"Twenty-six... twenty-seven... twenty-eight..."
As he reached forty-one, he heard a screeching feminine shriek coming from the gardens, instantly followed by a crash and the sound of breaking glass. Then came Sister Kate's outraged shouts and Noelle's laughter.
He heard the stairwell door open and feet come running down the hallway.
"Fifty-seven... fifty-eight... fifty-nine..."
And at sixty, Abel Nightroad screeched to a halt in front of the door, robes askew and hair flying, gasping for breath and looking as though hell itself had chased him all over the Vatican.
"Good afternoon, Father Nightroad," the Professor said calmly, taking another puff of his pipe.
"Pro... fessor... when did... you get here-" Abel managed to gasp out as he staggered into the room, before his foot slipped on a stray piece of paper, his feet shot out from under him, and he vanished in a pile of books and laundry.
"Just as you were leaving, actually. You knocked me over, you were in such a rush to get down to my office."
"Sorry," he heard the pile say indistinctly.
Abel resurfaced from the pile, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.
"And I knew you'd just finished making replacements for me, so I wanted to come get them."
"As it happened, I was bringing them to you."
"REALLY?!" Abel was delighted as he crossed the room to stand before the Professor, who got to his feet, reached into a pocket of his priest's robes, and handed the other priest a new pair of glasses.