In the middle of a quiet afternoon, on the outskirts of a dusty European town, a nun was walking peacefully through the courtyard of an old cathedral, humming softly and minding her own business.
Suddenly, a young soldier came sprinting around the corner, wild-eyed and clearly panicked. His uniform was covered in dust, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Sister!” he gasped, stopping just short of her. “Please—I know this sounds crazy, but I need your help. May I hide under your skirt, just for a moment? I’ll explain later!”
The nun, startled but sensing real fear in the young man’s eyes, hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Very well, my son. Quickly—under you go.”
A few seconds later, two grim-looking Military Police officers appeared, marching up in full gear.
“Sister,” one barked. “Have you seen a soldier pass through here? Mid-twenties, about yea tall, American?”
The nun smiled calmly and pointed in the opposite direction. “Yes, officers. He ran that way not long ago.”
The MPs gave a sharp nod, thanked her, and ran off without further questions.
Once the coast was clear, the soldier emerged from under the nun’s skirt, brushing himself off, a sheepish grin on his face.
“Thank you so much, sister,” he said with genuine relief. “You probably just saved me from being shipped off to Syria. I really don’t want to go.”
The nun nodded, her expression understanding. “I don’t blame you at all, my child.”
Then, the soldier paused, blushing slightly. “I hope I’m not being inappropriate, sister, but… you’ve got a really great pair of legs.”
The nun raised an eyebrow and, with a small smirk, replied, “Thank you. But if you had looked a little higher…”
She leaned in slightly and whispered, “You’d have seen a great pair of balls.”
The soldier’s eyes went wide.
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