Her Confession

Only one more to go, before it’s my turn; my back aches from standing in line at the confession booth. This place is odd in the sense that the confessional is in a secluded place, yet only the priest is hidden inside the booth. The person seeking absolvent of sins kneels outside.

The woman in front of me settled at her spot and commenced her confession. I am involuntarily privy to its contents – innocent bystander, you might say.

By the way she’s dressed, and walks; I figure this will take a while. Oops! Another thing to confess.

- “When was the last time you confessed and came to Mass?” he asked.

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- “I go almost every week to Mass father, but to confession, a few months, I’ve felt really guilty about coming to confession.”
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- “Why is that? Tell me, what do you need to confess?”

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- “I am this close to getting fired, and worst, having problems with the law! I was able on a few occasions to invoice twice customers and over charge them, large amounts. The surplus sum, after the net cost, I would keep for myself. That is, until my supervisor caught me. Now I live a life in hell father! First he only wanted a cut of the action, or else he would turn me in. Now he…he gropes my breasts, he pinches my nipples or my derriere anytime no one is looking. Now he is also pressuring me to fellate him. He says that it's not intercourse, and would not constitute ‘cheating’ on my husband."

(Rolling my eyes)

- “That is terrible! You must simply stop stealing, and leave that place!”

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- “I know father. It really wouldn't be so bad, if I were attracted to him. Just that, I'm turned off by the plaque adhered to his gums and teeth.

I wish I could leave father, but I have seniority there, and I am up to my eyebrows in debt!

I’m such a shopaholic, that I don’t even mind pushing people out of my way; not even little old ladies. Just last Black Friday, I camped at 1:00 am outside the mega mall. I even spent part of the mortgage payment! I need…I mean, only when it’s a desperate situation, I have done that; only then, I’m forced to play with the numbers.”

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- “Avarice and senseless consumption are also sins! Get a grip on your spending!”

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- “I know that father, but at least it’s for gift giving. Not as bad as my Vegas trips. Last time I was there, I even maxed my credit cards. There, is where I met Lenny too.”

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- “Lenny is your husband?”
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- “No father, he is the love of my life! We are crazy about each other! I can totally be myself with him. He won’t censor me if I drink, eat, 420, or gamble too much. I feel so free being myself with him!”

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- “420? What is that? Listen, whatever it is, you must get your life back on track. Your soul and even your liberty are at stake here. Does your husband know of this other guy?”
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- “No father, my husband works a lot of overtime, and goes a few nights a week to school too.

It’s his fault in a sense. He pays little attention to me, so I am drawn to other temptations; although, I do feel a bit guilty sometimes, when I have sex with both. No! not with each other, I mean with each, with only a few hours in between...on the same bed.”

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- “Anything else you need to confess?” He asked wearily.

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- “Well, I will just say that I am a little vindictive father. Last Thanksgiving, I spit into the mashed potatoes. I also mixed a couple of drops of my urine, into my sister-in-law’s cocktail.

I hate that bitch! Oops! Sorry father.”
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- “Go pray for fifteen minutes. I absolve of your sins!" He concluded exasperated.

I decided to skip my confession; I quietly walked away from that scene. How could I give more grief to the poor priest with my sins as well?