I got the stigmata from assembling a pine cabinet with a
multi-tool. The small stupid scissors kept popping out and I kept
screwing, you know, ratcheting, and now I'm being mistaken for the very
devout. I'd take a picture, but all the pictures turn out as portraits
of the Virgin Mary smiling. Now when I wave at Father Fred, while we're
both in line at Mr. Sub, his eyes go like dinner plates, and he crosses
himself, and he runs out of the store without regard to his Mr. Sub.
He thinks I am a direct conduit with God, well guess what, I am, and if
you're reading this, Father Fred, enjoy your time in hell!!!
Just
joking! The only person I'd send to hell is Roy E. Beaver. He was the
one who would always give me swirlies whilst singing, "God Rest Ye
Merry Gentleman". Now whenever I hear that song at Christmas time I get
the urge to scream and take a shower. Not that merry at all is it ye
gentlemen.
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