03 February 18, 06:52
A man was brought to the hospital, and taken quickly in for emergency surgery. The operation went well, and as the groggy man regained consciousness, he was reassured by a Sister of Mercy, who was waiting by his bed.
“Mr. Smith, you’re going to be just fine,” said the nun, gently patting his hand.
“We do need to know, however, how you intend to pay for your stay here. Are you covered by insurance?”
“No, I’m not,” the man whispered hoarsely.
“Can you pay in cash?” persisted the nun.
“I’m afraid I cannot, Sister.”
“Well, do you have any close relatives?” the nun essayed.
“Just my sister in New York,” he volunteered. “But she’s a spinster nun.”
“Oh, I must correct you, Mr. Smith. Nuns are not ‘spinsters;’ they are married to God.”
“Really…wonderful,” said Smith. “In that case, you can send the bill to my brother-in-law!"
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A father passing by his son's bedroom was astonished to see the bed was nicely made and everything was picked up. Then, he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow. It was addressed, 'Dad'. With the worst premonition, he opened the envelope and read the letter, with trembling hands.
Dear, Dad. It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend, because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mum and you.
I've been finding real passion with Stacy. She is so nice, but I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercing's, tattoos, her tight Motorcycle clothes, and because she is so much older than I am.
But it's not only the passion, Dad. She's pregnant. Stacy said that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods, and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children.
Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people in the commune for all the cocaine and ecstasy we want.
In the meantime, we'll pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so that Stacy can get better. She sure deserves it!
Don't worry Dad, I'm 15, and I know how to take care of myself. Someday, I'm sure we'll be back to visit so you can get to know your many grandchildren.
Love, your son, Joshua.
P.S . Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Jason's house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the school report that's on the kitchen table. Call when it is safe for me to come home!
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