The Third Miracle

Helena!

Helena!

Helena!

Stop shaking my machine

or get out!

Knock it off!

Good afternoon.

-I'm looking for somebody.

-You're too late.

-Excuse me?

-He called you.

-Can I have my key, please?

-You know the rules here.

If you don't pay your rent,

you don't get a key.

-No, nobody called me.

-Sure he did.

He called the church to get

a priest to give him... the rites.

-Last rites?

-I'm sure I paid my rent.

You didn't pay it,

now stop busting my balls!

That's it, except that no one

showed up and he died.

-He died?

-Aren't you looking for Joe Pinella?

I'm looking for Frank Shore.

-Him you can have.

-Where?

If he's not in his room, try the

soup kitchen across the street.

Hey, can I get your pies today?

Yo, can I get your pie? Come on,

why don't you give it to me?

My man! Can I get your pie?

Somebody gimme the pie!

Somebody gimme the pie! Sorry.

-How are you doing, Frank?

-Very well, thanks.

Can I get pie today? You give me

your pie, I'll talk to you later.

-Here you go, Higgins.

-You got any money today?

-What are you doing?

-Kissed it up to God.

-I'll pray for you.

-Thanks.

l will pray for you

l pray for you

You know l do

Frank!

John!

-This would be extreme.

-What can I tell you? It's filling.

-I wasn't talking about the food.

-Have a seat.

So, you're writing a new book?

No. No new book.

I had my class read ''The God

Within''. It's good. They liked it.

-What have you been doing?

-Living.

I understand the 40 days in the

desert, but it's been eight months.

-How did you find me?

-This can't be where you want to be.

-I don't know that.

-You walked out without a word.

The truth is Cahill

wants to see you.

He needs you.

He has need of you.

So, unless you've decided

you're not one of us anymore...

I've been trying to avoid decisions.

You took a vow of obedience. Cahill

wants to see you. It's that simple.

It's time to go.

Obviously you haven't been

reading the papers, or you'd know.

There's been another one?

A marble statue of the Virgin

in a parish schoolyard.

Saint Stanislaus'. You know that.

You grew up up there.

-Yeah, not too far Saint Bonis'.

-Good. You'll find your way around.

Place hasn't changed much.

Polacks and spanics, a few micks.

Very hardworking people.

What does she do?

The marble statue, I mean.

Fair question. They do lots of

things these days, don't they?

They undulate, they levitate.

There's a plastic Baby Jesus

in Skokie that drinks real milk.

Guy cuts open a avocado and sees

the Virgin staring up at him.

-It's the millennium, right, Leone?

-Yes, it is.

-What does this one do?

-She's old-fashioned. Just cries.

-Tears of blood.

-How did you guess? Want a drink?

Fill him in.

They claim she made a few cures.

The documentation is fair to good...

particularly on a girl

named Maria Witkowski.

That's seven years back.

She was aged nine at the time.

She had terminal lupus. You can

read all about it and here's a tape.

The statue bled on her, but it isn't

the statue they're praying to.

-It's a laywoman.

-The late Mrs. Helen O'Regan.

Nice widow lady, lived at the

convent, cooked for the sisters.

Opened up a soup

kitchen for the poor.

Even worked in the orphanage

the nuns have up there.

Everybody loved her until she died.

That's when the statue

began to weep.

It's her blood the statue is crying.

That's what the people believe.

-And now they want canonization.

-A saint they'd have her be.

Anyone told them there've only

been three American saints?

I said they were hardworking

people, not geniuses.

Have you had a chemist out?

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