Last night, a homeless man sought shelter within our convent walls. Out of charity, we gave him a small room and a set of fresh clothes.

While he was changing, I… I must confess, Father… I peeked through the keyhole. And I stared—longingly—at his… at his manhood.”

The priest sighed gently and said:
“Do not be ashamed, my child. Say one Hail Mary, wash your eyes in the holy water, and all will be forgiven.”

Then the second nun stepped forward, eyes downcast.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I… I crept into his room… and I held his manhood in my hand.”

The priest looked startled but kept his composure.
“Do not be ashamed, my child. Say one Hail Mary, wash your hands in the holy water, and all will be forgiven.”

Before the third nun could speak, the fourth nun suddenly shoved past her.
The third nun shoved back, both struggling to get ahead, their habits swishing, veils slipping as they wrestled in front of the stunned priest.

“Sisters! Stop this at once!” the priest roared. “What has come over you?!”

The fourth nun, red-faced and frantic, pointed at the third nun and shouted:
“I want to gargle the holy water before she washes her ass in it!”