A very elegant woman approached a priest on a long flight and leaned toward him with a whisper.
“Father, could I ask you a small favor?”
“Of course, my child,” he replied kindly. “What do you need?”
“I bought this… well… very expensive hair-removal gadget. It cost me a fortune, and it’s way above the customs limit. I’m terrified they’ll confiscate it when we land. Would you be willing to carry it under your robe?”
The priest hesitated, tugging at his collar.
“I can carry it, my child… but you must know something. I cannot tell a lie.”
She laughed softly. “Oh, Father, that’s exactly why I’m asking you! You look so honest no one would dare question you!”
When they landed, the priest made his way to customs. An officer smiled politely.
“Anything to declare today, Father?”
The priest nodded thoughtfully. “From my head down to my waist, nothing at all.”
The customs officer frowned. “And below your waist?”
“Well,” said the priest, lowering his voice, “down there I’m carrying something rather special. A little device for ladies… never been used.”
The customs officer’s face turned bright red as he burst out laughing.
“Move along, Father… go right ahead. And God bless.”
Little Johnny and the Divine Helper
Little Johnny was on his way to spend the weekend with his dad. Determined to bring everything he owned, he dumped it all into his little red wagon and began dragging it behind him.
Halfway up a steep hill, he groaned, “This stupid wagon is so heavy!”
A passing priest overheard and gently corrected him.
“Johnny, watch your language. Remember, the Lord hears every word. He’s everywhere.”
Johnny wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Everywhere?”
“Yes,” the priest said proudly. “In the church, in the trees, beside you on your walk…”
Johnny paused, thinking it over, then pointed at his wagon.
“Is He in there too?”
The priest chuckled. “Yes, Johnny, He’s even in your wagon.”
Johnny narrowed his eyes, planted his feet, and yelled toward the wagon:
“Well then tell Him to get out and HELP PUSH!”
A Bus Ride with Chanel… and Garlic
I was sitting on a crowded bus when a very classy woman took the seat next to me. She was dressed like she’d stepped out of a magazine and smelled like a bouquet of spring flowers.
After a few minutes, curiosity got the better of me.
“Excuse me,” I said politely, “your perfume is incredible. What is it? I’d love to buy it for my wife.”
She smiled warmly. “It’s Chanel. Straight from Paris.”
We rode in comfortable silence for a while… until my stomach decided to misbehave.
I released a tiny, barely-there one and prayed it would go unnoticed.
A moment later she wrinkled her nose dramatically.
“Good heavens! What is that awful odor?”
I shrugged innocently.
“Garlic,” I said. “I’m from Gilroy, California — the garlic capital of the world.”
She didn’t sit next to me on the return trip.
If you want these rewritten in a more comedic, dramatic, or storytelling style, I can do that too!