Getting it off his chest

A priest slowly slides open the tiny door with his right hand. It is the portal of forgiveness. On the other side of the metal screen there is darkness. The priest stares straight ahead, as the penitent engulfed by this darkness, kneeling, begins his confession.

“Bless me father for I have sinned. This is my first real confession. Sure, I have spilled my guts to some Russians prostitutes, while under the influence of some Great Russian vodka, but this is my first time with a priest. Have ever had real vodka? It’s terrific! Don’t drink too much! It doesn’t exactly put lead in your pencil if you know what I mean?”

The priest suddenly clutches his rosary tighter, sits up straight on the chair clears his throat and speaks, “Excuse me my son, I don’t usually stop someone while you seek God’s forgiveness but I don’t feel you’re taking the sacrament seriously. Here is where we confess our sins and vow to sin no more. Do you have any sins to confess or are you here to reminisce about some drunken night of debauchery.”

“Father, I am disappointed by your attitude. If I wanted all the negativity, I would have confessed on twitter. Give me a chance to get to the sin part; I was just giving you background information. My confession will be terrific, just listen! By the way, get it straight I would not waste my time going to Russia for one night. It was a week’s worth of debauchery and a suitcase full of little blue pills”.

“Alright, continue but please hurry. I am sorry for being so testy but it is politician’s Friday at the church and by closing time I feel exceptionally dirty. I look forward to going home to the rectory, lighting some candles, soaking in a tub of holy water while waiting for the fire and brimstone to rain down.”

“If you like holy water, Father, I’ll get you holy water. Did I tell you I met the Pope? If you hadn’t interrupted me, I would have told you that. As a matter of fact, I had a marvelous conversation with him just the other day. He will build a pipe line from the Vatican to your house and it won’t cost you a cent. It will be terrific and good for the economy. I don’t remember if I met the Pope while in Russia. Did I tell you about Russian Vodka? I’ll check with Vladimir. He will remember. I’ll get Vladdy to send me the DVD. He’s great, he records everything. Maybe, I will send him a thank you gift. I wonder if he would like Alaskan caviar.”

“Donald, by now I feel safe in calling you Donald, what exactly is your confession.”

“Well my impatient padre… I won the bet.”

“So your sin is gambling, my son?”

“No, my sin is winning. I have to win at everything. It all started on the golf course. There was a lot of trash talking… you know guy stuff, being thrown around. Suddenly, my friend Bill bets me a dollar that a real businessman could never become president. He boasts that only a career politician could be elected. Now, I could buy and sell that political hack 100 times over. It’s all in the pitch. It is not about what you’re selling. It is what the customer is buying. So, I took that bet. We sealed the deal with a couple slugs of Russian vodka on the 18th hole.”

Just as the priest was about to perform his first impromptu exorcism; there is a pounding on the left side at the other little door.

“Father… Father open the door, open the door.”

The priest realizes that any chance for sanctity, civility, dignity or penitence has long vanished. He slams open the closed door and shouts, “What the hell do you want? Are the damn Russian hookers getting impatient?”

“Oh no Father, I couldn’t help but overhear what was being said. Tell that Barnum Bailey that Bill is over here.”

Before the priest could say a word, Donald shouts back, “Padre, I want you to tell that loser, he owes me a buck”.

Bill retaliates, “Hey, did your business school have a course in spending a billion dollars to earn a buck? No wonder it went belly up.”

“Admit it; a businessman trumps a politician any day. Use that dollar to buy your old lady a box of Kleenex.”

Finally, the priest had heard enough and storms away.

Suddenly he hears a more repentant voice coming from the Donald. “Father, on your way out, please order the secret service guy to come in. I must confess that my tie is stuck in my zipper and I can’t get up… Oh and Bill are we still on for 18 holes Saturday?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Don. I just got a new putter to christen.”

The priest takes the advice in the Bible and never looks back. But, as he walks out the door he thinks to himself, “We must keep all these Presbyterians, Baptists and politicians out of the church.”

Somewhere in Russia a man wearing headphones, sits at a console and speaks to his comrade, “Sir we have to shorten Donald’s leash. He got it caught in his zipper again.”

1 Timothy 2: 1–2
 First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way.

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