Friday, April 27, 2012

The D-word


In a posh, leafy suburb of France’s capital, little boys and girls from all over the world flock to a certain Catholic prep school.

They go for the American curriculum and a strong base in the four R’s – Reading, ‘Riting, ‘Rithmetic – and Religion.

Seven-year-old Emma came home from a class preparing her for first confessional with a lot of questions about God. Not to mention some serious dirt on her classmates’ parents:

Father O’Halloran: Let’s think of some things that we could talk about with a priest during confessional.

Emma: Um, sometimes I forget to pray at night. And sometimes I don’t think about God much even when I’m at mass. That’s a sin, right?

Father: Well, that’s certainly something you could talk about with your priest.

Aidan (wiggling in seat): Oooh, ooh, I know one. My mommy and daddy drink beer and wine. One afternoon they drank wine and they went to their bedroom and Connor and me got to watch Clone Wars two times!

Father (struggling to keep a straight face): Ah, well…

Jake (waving hand frantically): 
I know one. My mommy uses bad words. She says “damn” and “shit”. Sometimes she even says the D-word.

Father: The D-word?

Jake (whispering): Democrat.

The cost of a private Catholic education in Paris? 25,000 €. Paying to get ratted out to your priest? Priceless. 
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Félicitations to the Hamsterbag winners!

ALEXANDRA
JADZIA
LIENE
MYSTICA

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