What Became of Old Luce, the Vatican Mascot?

 What Became of Old Luce?

(In the manner of Noël Coward, with a raised eyebrow and a cocktail in hand)

This with the assistance of grok.com in answer to a question from Bruvver Eccles


Darling, have you heard the latest from the Holy See? That pert little pilgrim with the anime glee? Luce, the mascot, all yellow mac and beads, A tokidoki waif for the Jubilee needs.

She tripped through Rome in two-thousand-twenty-five, Waving at pilgrims, keeping the faith alive. Blue hair a-bobbing, staff in her tiny fist, Selling hope and selfies to the faithful tourist.

Oh, what larks! What fun! What pious kitsch! The Cardinals blushed, but the young ones loved the switch From incense and Latin to manga and merch— Luce hoodies, Luce plushies, a lucrative search.

But Jubilees end, as all good parties must, The Holy Doors close with a sanctimonious thrust. So what became of old Luce when the crowds drifted on? When the last indulgence was duly signed and done?

She traded her rosary for a string of pearls, Moved to a flat in Trastevere, quite the girl. Now she hosts soirées for the louche and the lapsed, Serving Campari sodas while the faithful are napped.

Her yellow anorak hangs in a gilt-edged frame, A relic of glory, a touch of campy fame. She murmurs to lovers in a voice light and dry, “Indulge, caro mio—after all, we all die.”

The Vatican calls her a footnote, quite sweet, But Luce knows better—she’s out on the street Of life everlasting, with a wink and a nod, A pilgrim no more, but a thoroughly modern broad.

So here’s to old Luce, that ephemeral light, Who brightened the Year and then vanished at night. In the grand tradition of Cowardian mirth, She reminds us that even the sacred needs earth.

Cheers, my dears. Pass the gin.

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