"G you bastard! Get your fat ass out of bed!"
I nearly dropped the knife I was using to make a sandwich.
"V! What was that?"
"Sorry, G wouldn't get up."
V's first confession is to be held on Saturday.
A priest at the church described listening to children's first confessions as being "stoned to death by popcorn."
He has yet to contend with my son I suppose.
I have had several people say that they wish they could be flies on the wall when he goes into the booth to make his confessions. Me too.
I'm thinking that if that were possible, V would have a small black, buzzing cloud following him in there. A scene right out of Amityville.
They'd probably hold an exorcism posthaste.
I'll let you know on Sunday if he said anything good.
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