A bubbly blonde stepped into the confessional, her hands nervously twisting the hem of her skirt. The dim light and the hush of the chapel made her swallow hard.
“Father, forgive me, for I have sinned,” she whispered, her voice trembling with sincerity.
The priest, calm and accustomed to many kinds of confessions, leaned closer to the screen. “What troubles you, my child?” he asked gently.
She took a deep breath, clearly bracing herself. “Father… I’m pregnant.”
There was a long pause on the other side of the screen. The priest cleared his throat, choosing his words with care. “My child,” he said slowly, “how… how did this happen?”
Without missing a beat, she straightened her back and replied with wide-eyed innocence, “I think it must be the Second Coming.”
The priest nearly dropped his rosary. His breath caught, and he blinked several times, certain he’d misheard her. “The Second Coming?” he repeated, stunned. “What on earth makes you think that?”
She sighed softly, as if the answer should have been obvious, and said in complete earnestness, “Because, Father… I swallowed the first one.”
A heavy silence filled the confessional. Somewhere in the church, a candle flickered. The priest closed his eyes, whispered a prayer for patience, and realized that some confessions were truly beyond theological training.
