Saint Jude’s Parish is usually a sanctuary of incense and quiet reflection—but for Father Dan, the week had a rhythm all its own. During his rounds at the convent, he kept noticing Sister Ann. Graceful, devoted, and quietly serene, she moved through the halls with an elegance that masked a growing secret.
“Sister Ann,” Father Dan asked one afternoon, eyeing the snug fit of her habit, “are you… putting on a little holiday weight?”
With a serene smile, Sister Ann bowed her head. “Oh, no, Father. Just a little gas,” she replied, unruffled.
Months passed, and Father Dan’s curiosity only grew. On another visit, she navigated the narrow corridor with a careful, rolling gait, her habit stretched to the limit. “Sister, that seems… serious,” he said.
“Just a bit of gas, Father,” she whispered, cheeks lightly flushed.
The mystery came to light weeks later when Father Dan spotted Sister Ann wheeling a pristine navy-blue baby carriage in the garden. Inside slept a rosy-cheeked infant. Father Dan leaned closer, adjusting his glasses, and quipped dryly, “Well, that’s certainly one cute little fart.”
Not all surprises were so small. Later in the week, Father Dan visited Mrs. Smith, a lively octogenarian. Seated at her lace-covered coffee table, Father Dan reached for a crystal bowl of almonds, one handful turning into another… and then another.
“Oh my, Father! I’ve eaten them all,” he gasped.
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