A Confessional Letter

Dear Mr. Priest Father Superior,


         My name is Fred. I’m writing to you to fulfill my confessional requires in order to be absolved of my unusual sins. I would like to do these every week since I rarely leave my house besides to commute thirty-five minute to my wonderful administrative job at an abortion clinic. Plus, priests have been haunting my boyhood dreams due to the recent news articles about those unholy happenings; it hasn’t helped my sleeping, one bit, no sir. I wish I could call but I’m recharging my cell phone and my dog recently peed on my land line. So, maybe I will try calling next week but I will need your phone number at the church. I would look up the phone number in a phone book if I had one and I will never have one ever again, thank you very much. They printed my name seven times with a different middle initial each time, seven times on one page, can you believe that, on one page. I decided to sue the phone book company for fraud but the corrupt lawyer I tried to hire said I didn’t have any grounds. I thought I had seven well grounded reasons to sue. The money grubbing lawyer had the audacity to say I have no rights to my name. Can you believe that nonsense? I was so mad but I learned to accept their wrong with a turned cheek and a warm fart in their faces at a complaint hearing. I only spent a week in jail for showing my butt in the court room but it was worth it and I got really good at setback. Great game, do you play?
         I’m new to the whole Catholic scene, recently becoming a devout Catholic about five minutes ago, when I realized the mail man would be here in twenty minutes. I saw him two houses down at the Weinstein’s place, nice people them Weinstein’s I wonder if they go to your church, they probably do; they seem to me, to be very holy people.
         I knew I had twenty minutes to write this confessional request because the Gromorine’s that live next to the Weinstein’s have some unusual pets. The giraffe loves to search through the mailman’s pockets with its slender black tongue. Truthfully, I don’t know why the giraffe does it and I’ve never had the chance to ask the Gromorine’s about it. It’s a bit weird, especially since I visited the Gromorine’s house one day and the giraffe did the same thing to me. It didn’t bother me until I noticed the giraffe made three long-distance phone calls to a cousin giraffe in an African wildlife reserve that was outside my calling network. I’m still paying off the bill for the second call but luckily one of my phone book impostures got the bill for the last call which lasted for a total of three days. I guess the big guy was on my side that time, Father Superior?
         Since this is a confessional, I guess I should start confessing my naughtiness for you to get some absolving powers flowing. First sin Mr. Priest Father Superior…oh wait the mailman will be at my mail box in about one minute. I’ll confess some other time. I’m just glad I got this chance to introduce myself and express my devotion to this wonderful religion with its many gracious Gods. I won’t see you in church because I have to set up for a fundraiser on Sunday a few towns over. Work, Work, Work.



Thanks for your time Mr. Priest Father Superior.

Your devoted subject

Fred



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