One day, the pope and the antipope decided to have a battle to decide who was the best. They had an arena built (using church funds, of course) in which to hold the contest. All the peasants were forced to come watch. (The peasants didn't mind, though - it sure was better than toiling on the fiefdoms.)

The two contestants decided upon three areas of competition: miraculous powers, a timed essay on Dante's Divine Comedy and its relation to the Scriptures, and the long jump. The contestant who lost would be excommunicated and/or otherwise kicked out of the Church (a.k.a. salvation). So, they set a date and everyone showed up at the arena for the big event. Aristotle's ghost was channeled through a medium to judge the contest.

First came the test of miraculous powers. The pople prayed so hard that 9,562 people got transferred from purgatory to heaven. Everyone was very impressed. "Very good," Aristotle's ghost remarked. "Now it is the antipope's turn." The antipope proceeded to cause ninety demons in the vicinity to implode. Aristotle was equally impressed with this feat, and announced, "This part shall be a tie."

Next came the essay question. While the pope and the antipope were vigorously writing their essays, some Protestant terrorists ouside the arena were planning the demise of their dual Holinesses. (One of the Protestants was a distant relative of Guy Fawkes.) Anyway, they had a bunch of concealed firearms. Alas, however, the guards realized that they were heretics when a copy of Luther's 95 Theses fell out of one of their coats. They were taken to the local Inquisition office, where high servants of God strapped them to hard wooden chairs and forced them to listen to Ravel's Bolero 95 times in a row.

Back in the arena, the two popes had finished their essays. The antipope's essay was so good that Dante himself appeared and gave the antipope a firm handshake. However, Aristotle pointed out that the antipope's essay was written in French instead of Latin, and was thus invalid. The pope's essay was frankly awful; apparently he had never read the Comedy. Aristotle then called the popes to the long jump track. The antipope, a pure athlete, went first. The crowd was hushed as he ran along the track towards the sandpit, papal robes flowing in the wind, mitre hat bobbing up and down. He jumped...and landed three feet past the sandpit - a jump of twenty feet. The crowd cheered in amazement.

The pope, a wimp, looked worried. He hesitantly began a slow jog towards the sand and hopped in; marked at three feet, it looked as if the pope had been defeated. But then he stood up. In the sand where he had fallen was the spittin' image of the Virgin Mary. "This indeed is a sign of approval," said Aristotle, whose eyes were tearing up in reverence. "We shall call the competition a draw, and instead shall build a church on this spot to commemmorate the appearance of our Holy Mother." So they built the Church of the Virgin Mary of the Sandpit, and the pope and the antipope continued to struggle for control of a mindless Europe.