The Hospital Stay

A man was brought to Mercy Hospital and taken in for coronary surgery. The operation went well, and, as the groggy man regained consciousness, he was reassured by a Sister of Mercy, who was waiting by his bed.

“Mr. Smith, you’re going to be just fine,” said the nun, gently patting his hand. “We do need to know, however, how you intend to pay for your stay here. Are you covered by insurance?”

“No, I’m not,” the man whispered hoarsely.

“Can you pay in cash?” persisted the nun.

“I’m afraid I cannot, Sister.”

“Well, do you have any close relatives?” the nun asked.

“Just my sister in New Mexico,” he volunteered. “But she’s a humble spinster nun.”

“Oh, I must correct you, Mr. Smith. Nuns are not ‘spinsters’. They are married to God.”

“Wonderful,” said Smith. “In that case, please send the bill to my brother-in-law.”


The Catholic Dog

Muldoon lived alone in the Irish countryside with only a pet dog for company. One day the dog died, and Muldoon went to the parish priest and asked, ‘Father, my dog is dead. Could ya’ be saying’ a Mass for the poor creature?’

Father Patrick replied, ‘I’m afraid not; we cannot have services for an animal in the church. But there are some Baptists down the lane, and there’s no tellin’ what they believe. Maybe they’ll do something for the creature.’

Muldoon said, ‘I’ll go right away Father. Do ya think $5,000 is enough to donate to them for their service?’

Father Patrick exclaimed, ‘Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus! Why didn’t ya tell me the dog was Catholic?

The Catholic Dog
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Push Pull or Drag

Oh, it's not quite that bad. It does give one a seriously bad case of butterflies to know that very soon their entire life is going to be turned inside out and upside down!

Oh, it’s not quite that bad. It does give one a seriously bad case of butterflies to know that very soon their entire life is going to be turned inside out and upside down!

*edit:I never really liked how this panel turned out… Tyler looks like he’s made of paper… I still don’t know what happened there.


The Irish Prostitute

An Irish daughter had not been home for over 5 years. Upon her return,  her Father cussed her.   ‘Where have ye been all this time? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn’t ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old Mother thru?’

The girl, crying, replied, ‘Sniff, sniff…Dad…I became a prostitute…’

‘Ye what!!? Out of here, ye shameless harlot! Sinner! You’re a disgrace to this Catholic family.’

‘OK, Dad– as ye wish. I just came back to give mum this luxurious fur coat, title deed to a ten bedroom mansion plus a $5 million savings  certificate. For me little brother, this gold Rolex. And for ye Daddy, the sparkling new Mercedes limited edition convertible that’s parked outside plus a membership to the country club… (takes a breath) …and an invitation for ye all to spend New Years Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera and…’

‘Now what was it ye said ye had become?’ says Dad.

Girl, crying again, ‘Sniff, sniff… a prostitute Daddy! Sniff, sniff.’

‘Oh! Be Jesus! Ye scared me half to death, girl! I thought ye said a Protestant. Come here and give yer old Dad a hug.’