Nun #1: “Do you ever wonder, Sister Mary Margaret Mary Marie, why the archbishop assigned us to New Orleans? Out of all the places he could choose?”
Nun #2: “I’ve never questioned it, Sister Mary Margaret Magdalena Macarena Hey Macarena. God guides the archbishop, and he guides us.”
Nun #1: “Still, it has been a challenge, this city. And I must admit that I have been tempted. And I may have stumbled.”
Nun #2, unable to control a gasp and nearly losing her grip on her anointed umbrella, but recovering quickly: “My poor sister, if you have strayed, you must confess at once.”
Nun #1: “Oh, I will do that, once we return to Our Lady of Red Light Districa. It has been tormenting me ever so much.”
Nun #2: “Perhaps you should tell me now. As practice for your confession, of course.”
Nun #1, hesitating: “But you’re the editor of the Cajun edition of High-Five for Jesus. How do I know you won’t run my story?”
Nun #2, crossing fingers behind her back: “I would never do such a thing. Gossip and innuendo are the Devil’s work. So tell me, what sort of sins against Our Heavenly Father have you committed? Do you have lust in your heart for the swarthy man who delivers the produce? I must admit that there have been rumors in my sewing circle about such. Or were you the one who yelped blasphemous utterances in the communal shower when the hot water kicked in unexpectedly? I tried to get a picture of whoever it was but the steam was fogging my lens.”
Nun #1: “Allow me to say that you don’t seem all that concerned with my own welfare in this matter.”
Nun #2, fingers still crossed, as they have been since the second grade: “My dear, I would never do anything to disparage the reputation of a woman who is married to Christ. Unless, of course, she breaks the pre-nup agreement. Was there breaking?”
Nun #1, sighing: “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m so torn.”
Nun #2, exasperated, as she had a deadline to meet for the latest edition of the Cajun HFFJ: “Just spill it, girl. Nothing makes you feel better than loose lips.”
Nun #1, nearly in tears: “I went to Pere Antoine’s last Friday and I had the blackened chicken instead of the blackened fish. I’m such a bad Catholic, eating meat on Friday, and I have broken a sacred rule. I shall burn forever.”
Nun #2, pausing to let this sink in, then recovering: “Honey, do you not have email? We really don’t care about that anymore. I can’t run a story like that, my editors will rip me a new one.”
Nun #1: “Editors? Run a story? But I thought this was just between me and you.”
Nun #2: “Of course it is, especially since I didn’t get anything good out of you. Now, should we stop by the French Market for some fresh oregano? Or is that too pungent of an herb for your obvious chastity?”
Categories: Random, Social Pretense
Crusty Pie 
hahahahahah!!!
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Glad you liked it!
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I don’t think Mary is going to trust Mary anymore after this conversation. Blackened chicken is my favourite burger! Maybe you could introduce me to this nun?
minor suggestion– there [a] breaking
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The trust has indeed been shattered, and once that’s gone it’s no longer as much fun wearing matching outfits together. But the blackened chicken angle, I think I can work on that for you. Let me send some preliminary text messages…
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