A couple of years ago I was at a pub on a Sunday night enduring a lonely drink. A few minutes later, a cute girl came in and sat on the stool next to mine. Before I could say a word, she shook her head, turned to me and said:
“Every week, I sanctify myself to model as the Virgin Mary for a prayer card company and every following weekend, I whore myself all over town. This was the steady cycle of my life, but now it’s all fucked. Despite my efforts to, once again, sanctify my body and soul, this week there is a crack in the holiness… Herpes. I got it Friday night. Tomorrow, I have to go to work… impure. What am I doing here? I'm going home. If you happen to see a Virgin Mary card, say a prayer for me. This shit itches like a mother fucker!”
I never got the crazy girl's name, so we'll just call her Mary. After hearing what she said, I was relieved I didn't get the chance to offer the girl a drink.
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Crack it up...