One sunny afternoon, a man named Victor strolled into a small, centuries-old church with a grin so wide it could light up the darkest of rooms. His steps echoed through the quiet sanctuary as he approached the confessional booth.
“Bless me, father, for I have sinned,” he says. “I’ve spent the week with seven beautiful women.”
“Do not fret, my son,” says the priest.
“Just squeeze seven lemons into a glass and drink.”
“Will that cleanse me from my sin?”
“No, but it’ll wipe that stupid smile off your face.”
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