A drunkard was staggering down the main street of town. Somehow he managed to make it up the stairs of the Catholic church and into the nave, where he stumbled from pew to pew. He eventually found a confessional booth and stepped inside.
Meanwhile a priest had been observing the tipsy fellow’s travails. Figuring the man was in need of assistance, the priest entered his side of the confessional. His concern was rewarded by a lengthy silence. Finally he piped, “May I help you, my son?”
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