A man walks into a confession booth, looking unusually cheerful.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
The priest replies in a calm, holy tone, “Speak, my child. What weighs on your soul?”
The man leans in and says, “Father, for the past six days, I’ve been sleeping with women… women who aren’t my wife.”
The priest furrows his brow. “And this troubles you deeply?”
“Well… I mean, yes—technically. But Father, they’re really hot.”
The priest raises an eyebrow. “More attractive than your wife?”
“Absolutely not! My wife is a total bombshell. But you know… variety.”
The priest takes a deep breath, trying to remain composed. “And you’ve come seeking forgiveness?”
“Yes, Father. Tell me what to do.”
Without missing a beat, the priest says, “Go home, squeeze ten lemons or limes, and drink the juice—all of it.”
The man blinks. “Is that some kind of symbolic penance?”
“No,” the priest sighs. “But with any luck, it’ll wipe that smug grin off your face.”
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