Nun #1: “Do you ever wonder, Sister Mary Margaret Mary Marie, why the archbishop assigned us to New Orleans? Out of all the places he could choose?”
Nun #2: “I’ve never questioned it, Sister Mary Margaret Magdalena Macarena Hey Macarena. God guides the archbishop, and he guides us.”
Nun #1: “Still, it has been a challenge, this city. And I must admit that I have been tempted. And I may have stumbled.”
Nun #2, unable to control a gasp and nearly losing her grip on her anointed umbrella, but recovering quickly: “My poor sister, if you have strayed, you must confess at once.”
Nun #1: “Oh, I will do that, once we return to Our Lady of Red Light Districa. It has been tormenting me ever so much.”
Nun #2: “Perhaps you should tell me now. As practice for your confession, of course.”
Nun #1, hesitating: “But you’re the editor of the Cajun edition of High-Five for Jesus. How do I know you won’t run my story?”
Nun #2, crossing fingers behind her back: “I would never do such a thing. Gossip and innuendo are the Devil’s work. So tell me, what sort of sins against Our Heavenly Father have you committed? Do you have lust in your heart for the swarthy man who delivers the produce? I must admit that there have been rumors in my sewing circle about such. Or were you the one who yelped blasphemous utterances in the communal shower when the hot water kicked in unexpectedly? I tried to get a picture of whoever it was but the steam was fogging my lens.”
Nun #1: “Allow me to say that you don’t seem all that concerned with my own welfare in this matter.”
Nun #2, fingers still crossed, as they have been since the second grade: “My dear, I would never do anything to disparage the reputation of a woman who is married to Christ. Unless, of course, she breaks the pre-nup agreement. Was there breaking?”
Nun #1, sighing: “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m so torn.”
Nun #2, exasperated, as she had a deadline to meet for the latest edition of the Cajun HFFJ: “Just spill it, girl. Nothing makes you feel better than loose lips.”
Nun #1, nearly in tears: “I went to Pere Antoine’s last Friday and I had the blackened chicken instead of the blackened fish. I’m such a bad Catholic, eating meat on Friday, and I have broken a sacred rule. I shall burn forever.”
Nun #2, pausing to let this sink in, then recovering: “Honey, do you not have email? We really don’t care about that anymore. I can’t run a story like that, my editors will rip me a new one.”
Nun #1: “Editors? Run a story? But I thought this was just between me and you.”
Nun #2: “Of course it is, especially since I didn’t get anything good out of you. Now, should we stop by the French Market for some fresh oregano? Or is that too pungent of an herb for your obvious chastity?”
Previously published in “Crusty Pie” and “Bonnywood Manor”. Slight changes made for this post.
Note: The back-to-back New Orleans postings was purely coincidental, but I’m rather enjoying myself as I dig through this particular tunnel in the archives. Should I share more? I have far more of them than I should…
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
And here I thought this might be some sort of titillating Valentine’s post. Instead there’s a nun trying to sell some titty, er, tittle. 😉
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But it’s a post about New Orleans, a place for lovers. Not necessarily your REGULAR lover, but still… 😉
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More Nawlins! The French Quarter, the Garden District, every single place Anne Rice wrote about, visited, or had a passing thought about… please, please, PLEASE🙏
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I will do what I can to make all your dreams come true. As long as I can remember that’s what I’m supposed to be doing… 😉
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High-Five For Jesus? My sub-scripture’s in the mail!
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And we will rush to fill you with scripture, just as soon as your check clears the bank…
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Bless you Brian. cain’t wait to check out the latest chapter.
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so funny and I adore her name
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Character names are a specialty here at Bonnywood. It’s one of the few things that you can depend on… 😉
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“ Sister Mary Margaret Magdalena Macarena Hey Macarena”. May I hug your brain?
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Of course. There’s far too much zaniness in my brain for one person, so I simply must share…
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You have to worry about archbishops.
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Especially when they wear those oddly enormous hats…
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“Sister Mary Margaret Magdalena Macarena Hey Macarena” That cracked me up too. My husband used to be Catholic. He couldn’t believe it when they got rid of the Friday Fish rule. And then limbo disappeared. He couldn’t take it. Lol
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I can still remember, as a relatively wee tyke, when my paternal grandparents were thrown into a tizzy by the demotion in importance of the fish thing. Of course, even at my tender age, I already had bigger questions about bigger things when it came to the Catholic Way…
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I think I’d like to meet Sister Mary Margaret Magdalena Macarena , maybe buy her a margarita.
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It’s amazing how a simple margarita can completely change your life plans…
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LOL. I’ve been to New Orleans…didn’t meet the sista though. I just remember wondering why anyone would go there on purpose. 🥴
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Ah, I forgot that you’re not a big fan of NOLA. Well, it can be a bit much at times, but then again, I’m an odd little nut, so I find my fun in odd little places… 😉
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Philadelphia is also in my “why would anyone go there on purpose” list…but two of my children were born there. Now…when they start making fun of my Southern accent…I say “did you know that I was nigh onto five years old before I realized that damn and yankee were two separate words?” 😬
It’s always been strange…having four children and not one of them speak Southern.
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Okay, so now it’s MY turn to say I honestly have no memory of this one, despite your saying it appeared at least twice before. But then, as you’ve said, you have several tunnels yet to excavate. Need a light? 😉
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Whew. I feel better, now that the situation is reversed. You mentioned on one of the previous posts of this ditty that I should know better than to throw out the prize-winning line (“Hey Macarena”) at the beginning of the story instead of the end. (And I do agree, nothing quite reaches the peak after that.)
I think we should chalk it up to the fact that we are such DEDICATED readers for the blogs we follow that there simply isn’t enough room in our brains to retain everything. It’s not that we don’t care, it’s that we care too MUCH. That works for me… 😉
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