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The last poster wins


TheCalliton

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For a brief time I served in a small parish in England. Every Sunday after Mass, I would see a young boy waiting in the back of the church. And then one day, the boy confessed to me that he had beaten his dog to death with a shovel. He said that the dog had bitten his baby sister on the cheek; and he needed to protect her. And he wanted to know whether he would go to hell for this. I told him that God would understand -- that he would be forgiven, as long as he was sorry. But the boy did not care about forgiveness. He was only afraid that if he did go to hell -- that dog would be there waiting for him.
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Yeah, what's he told you about me? What did you tell them about me, dad? That your son never really had it -- not like the old man. I didn't have the will to make it work? My life, my job, my marriage. What did you tell them about my marriage, dad? You want to know how he manages his marriage? A bottle of scotch every night before dinner.
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