A distinguished lady on a flight from Switzerland found herself sitting next to a kind-looking priest.
“Father, may I ask you for a favor?” she whispered.
“Of course, my child. How can I help?” he replied.
“I bought an expensive, high-tech hair remover, but I’m way over my duty-free limit. I’m afraid customs will confiscate it. Would you be willing to hide it under your cassock?”
The priest chuckled. “I can help, but you should know—I cannot lie.”
“With your honest face, Father, no one will question you!” she assured him, handing over the device.
When they landed, the priest approached customs.
“Father, do you have anything to declare?” asked the officer.
The priest smiled. “From the top of my head to my sash, I have nothing to declare, my son.”
Suspicious, the officer pressed, “And from the sash down?”
The priest calmly replied, “Down there, I have a marvelous little device designed for women, never before used.”
The customs officer burst into laughter. “Go ahead, Father. Next!”
🚶♂️ Little Johnny and the Priest
Little Johnny was moving his things to his dad’s house, stuffing everything he owned into a little red wagon. As he struggled up a steep hill, he grumbled, “This damn thing is so heavy!”
A priest walking by overheard. “My son, you shouldn’t swear. God is everywhere—He’s in the church, He’s on the sidewalk, He’s even in your wagon.”
Johnny’s eyes widened. “Wait… God is in my wagon?”
“Yes, my child,” the priest nodded.
Johnny shrugged. “Well, tell Him to get the hell out and start pulling!”
🚌 The Lady, the Perfume, and the Garlic
A classy woman, smelling of expensive perfume, sat next to me on the bus.
After a few minutes, I couldn’t help but ask, “Excuse me, ma’am. That scent is incredible. What perfume is that?”
She smiled proudly. “It’s Chanel. From Paris.”
A little while later, my stomach rumbled, and I discreetly let out a silent but deadly one.
Seconds later, the lady cringed. “Oh my God! What is that awful smell?!”
I grinned. “Garlic. From Gilroy, California.”
