After twenty years of skipping church, a guy finally decides it’s time to straighten up and go to confession.
He walks in, feeling a bit nervous, clutching his hat like a man about to face judgment.
He steps into the confessional booth, pulls the curtain closed, and immediately notices something odd.
Inside, there’s soft lighting, the faint scent of cedar, and a little shelf stocked with a fine cigar humidor, a decanter of brandy, and even a bowl of fancy chocolates.
He sits down, amazed.
“Wow,” he whispers to himself, “the Church has really modernized since I’ve been gone!”
So, he pours himself a glass of brandy, takes a sip to calm his nerves, lights up one of the cigars, and pops a chocolate in his mouth.
He’s thinking, I could get used to confession again.
Just then, the door slides open and the priest steps in, coughing from the cigar smoke.
The man grins, raises his glass, and says, “Father, I’ve got to say—this is great! Things sure have changed since the last time I came to confession!”
The priest stares at him for a moment, completely baffled, and finally says, “My son… get out of here. You’re on the wrong side.”
