DON’T BLAME MADPRIEST, BLAME ELLIE

A nun walked into Mother Superior’s office and plunked down into a chair. She let out a sigh heavy with frustration.

‘What troubles you, Sister?’ asked the Mother Superior. ‘I thought this was the day you spent with your family.’

‘It was,’ sighed the Sister. ‘And I went to play golf with my brother. We try to play golf as often as we can. You know I was quite a talented golfer before I devoted my life to Christ.’

‘I seem to recall that,’ the Mother Superior agreed. ‘So I take it your day of recreation was not relaxing?’

‘Far from it,’ snorted the Sister. ‘In fact, I even took the Lord’s name in vain today!’

‘Goodness, Sister!’ gasped the Mother Superior, astonished. ‘You must tell me all about it!’

‘Well, we were on the fifth tee…and this hole is a monster, Mother - 540 yard Par 5, with a nasty dogleg right and a hidden green…and I hit the drive of my life. I creamed it. The sweetest swing I ever made. And it’s flying straight and true, right along the line I wanted…and it hits a bird in mid-flight !’

‘Oh my!’ commiserated the Mother. ‘How unfortunate! But surely that didn’t make you blaspheme, Sister!

”No, that wasn’t it,’ admitted Sister. ‘While I was still trying to fathom what had happened, this squirrel runs out of the woods, grabs my ball and runs off down the fairway!’

‘Oh, that would have made me blaspheme!’ sympathized the Mother.

‘But I didn’t, Mother!’ sobbed the Sister. ‘And I was so proud of myself! And while I was pondering whether this was a sign from God, this hawk swoops out of the sky and grabs the squirrel and flies off, with my ball still clutched in his paws!’

‘So that’s when you cursed,’ said the Mother with a knowing smile.

‘Nope, that wasn’t it either,’ cried the Sister, anguished, ‘because as the hawk started to fly out of sight, the squirrel started struggling, and the hawk dropped him right there on the green, and the ball popped out of his paws and rolled to about 18 inches from the cup!’

Mother Superior sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, fixed the Sister with a baleful stare and said… ‘You missed the fecking putt, didn’t you?’

***

A newly married sailor was informed by the Navy that he was going to be stationed a long way from home on a remote island in the Pacific for a year.

A few weeks after he got there, he began to miss his new wife, so he wrote her a letter. "My love," he wrote, "we are going to be apart for a very long time. Already I'm starting to miss you and there's really not much to do here in the evenings. Besides that, we're constantly surrounded by young attractive native girls. A hobby of some sort would certainly help me resist temptation."

So his wife sent him back a harmonica, saying, "Why don't you learn to play this?"

Eventually, his tour of duty came to and end and he rushed back to his wife. "Darling," he said, "I can't wait to get you into bed so that we can make passionate love!"

She kissed him and said, "First, let's see you play that harmonica."

Comments

DON’T BLAME MADPRIEST, BLAME ELLIE — 9 Comments

  1. Oh, don’t encourage her, pleeeeeze!

    I try to make this blog a place of high culture and good manners and I am constantly undermined in this task by what appears to be the entire cast out of “The Canterbury Tales.”

  2. Now, now, MadPriest. I don’t make ’em up. I just pass ’em on!! 🙂

    But, yes. I think those of us who comprise the motley crew that hangs out here are, indeed, like the characters in Canterbury Tales. (Good observation!)

  3. Thanks, Ellie. I’ve been using the Chaucer gambit for some time now, whenever I’m challenged by the pompous about the place of vulgarity within the English church.

    Chaucer, Shakespeare, Ruskin, Benny Hill, MadPriest – I’m just one in a long line of English literary geniuses who appreciate a good bum joke.

  4. Oh yes, Damian. Along with the Hitch Hikers Guide To The Galaxy” the works of the venerable Pratchett are our scriptures at OCICBW…