“Well,” she whispered, “I bought a fancy hair removal device. The kind that costs more than a good hotel room. It’s way over the customs allowance. I’m afraid they’ll confiscate it when I land.”
The priest looked slightly startled, but she pressed on.
The priest paused. “I suppose I could carry it,” he said slowly. “But I must tell you, I cannot tell a lie.”
She smiled sweetly. “That’s perfect! You won’t even have to. Just let it ride with you.”
Later, at customs, the priest stepped forward. A uniformed officer gave him a polite nod and asked, “Anything to declare, Father?”
The priest answered calmly, “From my head down to my waist, nothing to declare.”
The customs officer blinked, then asked, “And from your waist down?”
With a serene smile, the priest replied, “Well… there’s something quite special down there. It’s a small device made for ladies. Never been used.”
The customs officer turned bright red, coughed, and waved him through. “Move along, Father… and best of luck to you.”
Little Johnny and the Divine Hitchhiker
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