What could possibly make a priest so angry?
I went to a wedding in New Jersey last week and I ended up sitting at the same table as the priest who presided at the wedding. I could tell from some of Father’s, ahem, liturgical stylings, that this priest and I wouldn’t see eye to eye on many issues. Since I was there to wish the happy couple well and to have a little fun, I determined not to engage Father on anything more meaningful than his preference for Dewars over Johnny Walker Red.
I forgot to send my wife the memo.
Half way through reception, my wife innocently decided to make conversation with Father.
“Father, are you ready for the new translation?”
Father turned toward my wife and let let loose a loud and theatrical harrumph worthy of a Mel Brooks movie. Then, with his diaphragm fully engaged, he bellowed out his discourteous response.
“Oh, whooooooooo caaarrrees?”
Before reading what comes next, you need to understand that this man was just very discourteous to my wife in order to make a point about how much he disapproved of the change. And I had my drink on. And like I said, he was discourteous to my wife, drink or no drink.
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