“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”

There was something odd about the voice. Almost as though the speaker was trying to keep from laughing as he said it. “How long has it been…”

“Oh, I’ve never been in a confessional, father.” He paused. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever actually set foot in a church, Catholic or otherwise.”

“Well, then,” the priest replied, “you probably have a lot you wish to get off your chest.”

“Oh, you have no idea, father.” And he began listing his sins.

In detail.

The priest sat there, horrified by what he heard. If even half of what was said was true…

Finally, the priest had enough. “My son,” he exclaimed, “if you truly wish to repent your sins, I think you should go to the police, first…”

Finally, he laughed. “Father, I don’t wish to repent. I wish to brag! Besides, what could the police do? All God could do was cast me out of Heaven!”

The priest froze. No! he thought.

“Let me start again, so you’ll understand.

“Fear me, father, for I am sin!”