The first nun stepped forward, barely able to contain her excitement. “I would-a like to be Taylor Swift,” she said, imagining music, bright lights, and songs that made millions feel understood. With a gentle poof, she disappeared, probably already holding a microphone. The second nun followed confidently. “I want-a to be Madonna,” she declared, dreaming of creativity, bold choices, and fearless reinvention. Another poof, and she was gone too. St. Peter nodded approvingly, clearly used to big dreams. He then turned to the third nun, who stood quietly, hands folded, wearing a peaceful smile that suggested she knew something no one else did.
“I want-a to be Alberto Pipalini,” the third nun said softly. St. Peter blinked. He flipped through his records, checked a few heavenly databases, and scratched his head. “I’m sorry, sister,” he said gently, “but I don’t recognize that name. Is he a singer? An artist? A world leader?” The nun smiled wider and calmly pulled out a small newspaper clipping she had somehow brought with her. She pointed to a headline that read: ‘Local Man Alberto Pipalini Named Happiest Person Alive.’ The article explained that Alberto was known not for fame or fortune, but for living a simple, joyful life—running a small family business, laughing often, helping neighbors, and never taking things too seriously. Continue reading…
