In the quiet halls of Saint Jude’s Parish, Father Dan noticed something unusual. On his rounds at the convent, he kept seeing Sister Ann, a devoted and demure woman whose figure seemed to be changing.
“Sister Ann,” he asked one afternoon, eyes flicking to her tight habit, “are you… putting on a little holiday weight?”
“Oh, no, Father,” she replied serenely. “Just a little gas.”
Months passed, and Sister Ann’s habit stretched ever tighter. “That seems like quite an ailment,” Father Dan remarked.
“Just a bit of gas,” she whispered, cheeks pink.
The mystery ended when Father Dan saw her in the garden, wheeling a navy-blue baby carriage. Inside was a rosy-cheeked infant. Father Dan peered at the child and quipped, “Well, that is certainly one cute little fart.”
Humor, like faith, appears in unexpected places. Later that week, Father Dan visited Mrs. Smith, an 85-year-old parishioner. Sitting at her lace-covered table, he polished off a bowl of almonds.
“Oh dear,” he said, checking his watch. “I’ve eaten them all! I’ll bring a fresh bag next week.”
Mrs. Smith chuckled. “No bother, Father. I can’t chew them anyway—just lick the chocolate and put them back.”
Another day, Father Dan joined a Minister and Rabbi for a hike. They found a hidden lake and decided to swim, leaving their clothes on a log. A group of ladies appeared on the trail, and panic struck. The Minister and Father Dan covered their midsections; the Rabbi covered his face.
“Why your face?” asked the Minister.
“In my congregation, it’s my face they’d recognize,” the Rabbi replied.
That evening, Father Dan attended a dinner with a young couple meeting traditional parents. The nervous fiancée’s stomach betrayed her; a small puff escaped. The father-in-law barked at the dog under the table: “Rocky!” Relieved, she relaxed—until a louder blast echoed.
The father-in-law jumped, pointing at the dog: “Rocky! Get out of there fast! She’s gonna sh*t on you!”