the humor archives

I prefer this version:

So there's these three nuns, right, an english nun, an irish nun and a french nun. The three nuns was entering confession and the priest was like listening to them confessing their sins. The first nun was the english nun and she came up to the confession booth and she's all like "forgive me father, I've sinned, I've had bad thoughts about men" and the priest, fairly bored of such tales by now, says "say ten hail marys and drink from the chalice of holy water, and you are forgiven, child." The next nun comes along, the irish nun, and she sits in the confession booth, and after a slight hesitation she manages to say: "forgive me father, for I have sinned, I've fornicated", and the priest tells her "say forty hail marys and drink from the chalice of holy water, and child, you shall be absolved." Now the third nun comes up, the french nun - got an accent inshe, but I ain't gonna do it - she comes into the booth and says "forgive me father, for I have sinned - " and hesitates. "Yes?" says the priest. "Well..." the french nun continues, "when I lived out in Cowley I used to get the number 59 bus to the convent every morning, and every morning on the number 59 bus there would also be a - how do you say - a hippy, riding on the bus with me. And every morning he would be casting his wanton eyes upon me. One day he struck up the courage to ask me if I would accompany him to - what is it? a pub, yes. And I said no, of course I said no. I was repulsed. And yet - there was - well. Afterwards he began talking to the bus driver. "Cor, that nun, eh?" he said. "Fit as." The bus driver waggled his eyebrows, and said "I know what to do. Listen 'ere. Every night at 10pm that nun goes down the graveyard and prays to jesus. Now if you were to appear unto her, dressed as the good lord, why, she'd do anyfink you told 'er too." "Cracking good idea that," said the hippy.

That night I was praying in the graveyard to Our Most Heavenly Father, as is my custom, and suddenly there was a sounding of trumpets, such as I did not expect to hear until the end days - and out from behind the largest gravestone there came a man in a white robe, a halo dancing around his head, and I had no doubt that it was the Lord Our Jesus Christ come to me at last. "I am the Resurrection* and I am the Light! he said. "You have been chosen. I must enter you." Mon pere, as you can imagine, this made me unsure, but such is my faith in god that I accepted his request. I told him I had one condition - he was to enter me from behind, so that I could preserve my virginity. And so he did enter me, there in that graveyard.

*see last ish - ed

After we were finished, a most horrible thing happened. He threw off his robe, and said 'I'm the hippy!'

My world crumbled around me. I was sent reeling into a state of shock. I could not see or hear, and i remember nothing - nothing at all - until I find myself at home, clutching a glass of gin, and the bottle that was full the day before now half empty, mon pere, my god! I felt entirely numb, and yet I could still - could still feel the pain in my - my - well, you know. I could still feel it.

Initially, as I said, I was numb. I felt nothing. I did not attend convent for some time. You see, I was in shock. When people spoke to me I did not respond, for I did not seem to hear them - I forgot small details of my life. How to operate the television, and to turn off the stove when I had finished cooking. I forgot the telephone numbers of friends and the addresses of my mother. And my thoughts, mon pere, felt simply shattered - I could not collect them, and yet I felt so calm.

And then I began to realise - it hit me - like a bomb - what had been done to me in what I thought was the name of God. At first, I blamed myself. Later I was told by a psychologist - Brother Benton, you know him - that this is a stage common to women who have been - who have - " the french nun could not continue, and paused for a minute. The priest was silent. The nun continued, remembering with pain that period of her life which had been awful to her. "I am so sorry, mon pere. I - it is as I say. I felt that something wrong with me, some wrong act, must have been at fault for what had happened to me. It was I who was to blame, you see? Somehow I had faltered on the path into heaven, somehow been sinful and self-deceiving and carried a guilty conscience, and so I deserved - I deserved - it.

The world seemed altogether too large. Crowds I could not tolerate. Though the stage of numbness passed, the anxiety continued - I was afraid all the time, mon pere, afraid for my life, for myself, for my - yes, and the dreams, they were terrible. I remember how I would fall asleep and wake up to see a dark figure over my bed - how I screamed and screamed. And yet at some point which even now I cannot remember when it was, I stopped blaming myself, and - the - the - the - it was no longer the central point of my life.

Although my life began to return to its normal state, my mind - ah! yet did not. I had stopped blaming my self, yes, for who had been more attentive to God, more diligent in their prayers, more pure of mind and heart and soul than I? Few I could think of - there was never anything I had done to incur the wrath of God. I put aside such thoughts, as one must put aside all such thoughts...all such doubts that one has. And yet, worse, the - he had appeared to me in the shape of our lord, and although I knew him now for a deceiver, it was nonetheless true that the robes and the halo, unfortunately true to the classical depiction of our saviour, had become irrevocably associated in my mind with the figure of the - the devil that had come upon me that night. I could not see the paintings nor hear the words of Jesus without a little shadow and a shudder of the fear I had felt before...

It was this constant reminder of the horror in my life that would not allow me to entirely dismiss my doubts. The - it - had shattered not only my anus but my thoughts, my peace of mind and, I feared, my faith. Yes, it had distorted my very connection to God. I could not help asking myself what kind of God would permit such a thing to happen to a poor lamb of the Lord who had done nothing - nothing, mon pere! - to invite the wrath of heaven, nor any act deserving of such harsh punishment.

And further, I began to realise that although no blame could be lost by the vile hippy who had done this to me, although not a thing in the world could make him any less culpable for the act he had committed, I realised that I had myself contributed - that, without decreasing the awfulness of what he had done, I had helped it to happen. In my bright faith in the heavens I never suspected, nor had a single inkling, that it was not really Our Lord who had in that graveyard appeared to me. I had absolute faith that it was He. I was certain. My faith, it was so strong, I was willing to cloud my own eyes - his halo was cooking foil, mon pere! And yet I thought, really believed, that I gazed with rapturous eyes upon the shining face of the Creator.

It dawned upon me at that time, mon pere, that it was not enough to believe blindly. I could not be the only one in the world who was harmed through not thinking hard enough. And slowly I began to wonder, thinking of the hippy and his disguise, what had been done to me - I began to wonder - what else has been done that wears the mask of God? What else has been done falsely in his name?"