The Summoner's Tale
Once the Friar has concluded his tale about a summoner being dragged down to hell, the Summoner says, ah yes, he would know all about hell, since friars are so intimately acquainted with it. Of course, we've all heard the story about a friar who visits hell in a dream, and gets shown around by an angel. After seeing all the people who were sent to hell, the friar says, wow, there isn't a single friar down here! So the angel leads the friar to meet Satan himself, and asks Satan to lift up his tail. When he does, twenty thousand friars come tumbling out his asshole, then all scurry comedically to clamber back in.
Honestly the Summoner could have called that his tale and ended his chapter right there and I still would have been satisfied. But, here's his actual tale:
Out in Yorkshire there was a friar who traveled about giving sermons. After his performances, he would stop by the homes of the people he preached to, where he would slightly abuse their hospitality and accept payment from them, under the pretense that he would ask the others in his cloister to pray to God on their behalf. He'd even write their names down, but would scratch out their names as soon as he left their house.
"Hang on. That last part sounds very implausible," says the Friar, before the Host threatens to pistol-whip the next person who interrupts a story.
So one day this friar stops at the house of one of his regulars, who has taken ill. The friar says, oh, a true shame! For I have been praying to our Father most holy on your behalf. Then the ill man's wife comes in, offers the friar a meal, and then casually says "oh yeah by the way our son died two weeks ago."
The friar responds, I'd heard that! Truthfully, I saw him being led to heaven in a dream. In fact, two other friars saw that too. You know, that's the thing about us friars; we live such a meager existence, more meager than most, but it really lets us come so close to God, you know, we're practically whispering in his ear.
To which the ill man says, hang on. I've given a lot of my money to a lot of different friars. And yet, look how things have gone for me these past weeks. Kinda makes a person want his money back, you know?
But the friar says, aha, so your problem is actually that, by giving your wealth away to so many different friars, you spread it too thin. The whole is more powerful than the sum of its parts, of course, and one strong prayer is worth way more than many little ones. So you would be better off giving all of your money to me, rather than dividing it up like that. Of course when I say "give it to me", I don't mean I'm using it for myself, heavens no, that's all going to the church so we can build it up big and strong, and have a more holy place from which to pray for you. But I can see you are annoyed; let's talk about that! Wrath is a sin, you know, and here's a couple stories of people who did bad things with it. So won't you repent your wrathful ways?"
To which the ill man says, nah, actually I sorted it out this morning. Anyway I'd rather not talk about it.
But the friar replies, you don't have to! Just give us some more gold for our church, and the Lord will consider that repentance enough.
The ill man, having had about enough of the friar's sales pitch, says, okay. I do have one thing I can offer you. But you need to swear to me that you won't keep it for yourself, and you'll share it with all the other friars at your cloister.
The friar says, of course, I swear this will be done. To which the ill man says, good. In that case, I am sitting upon it; may I ask you to reach for it and take it yourself?
The friar thinks, ah yes, this is a perfectly normal thing. But when he reaches underneath the ill man, the latter farts into the friar's hand.
Enraged, the friar stomps off to the village lord, demanding to talk to the manager. He meets with the lord, and tells him the entire story.
"So let me get this straight," says the lord. "You swore an oath to share the fart with your fellow friars?"
"...I don't see how this is relevant," says the friar; but the lord continues, "Wow, what a tricky puzzle! How would one even do that? You can't really hold a fart in anything, and you definitely can't split it up!"
The lord's squire then looks up from his bowl of ramen and says, actually, I have an idea. You could get a cart wheel, one with twelve spokes, and drill holes up each one to the hub. After that, you take a dozen friars, and position each of them at the end of each spoke. Then, you just get the ill man to fart into the hub of the wheel, and it will be evenly distributed to all! You could even position this friar here directly underneath the hub, as he is clearly the most worthy recipient of them all.
And everybody (except the friar), presumably with much laughter, agrees that it is an excellent idea.
Here ends the Summoner's Tale.