Heads turn as a disheveled, drunk man stumbles into a subway car…
His tie hangs askew, his face is smudged with streaks of bright red lipstick, and a half-empty bottle of gin pokes out from the pocket of his worn-out coat.
He plops down on the bench next to a dignified priest…
The priest, trying to ignore the fumes of cheap liquor, offers a polite nod and returns to his book of scripture.
The drunk man lets out a loud hiccup, unfolds a crumpled newspaper, and squints at the words…
After a few minutes, the drunk man turns to the priest and asks, “Hey, Father,” he slurs, “what causes arthritis?”
The priest, with the air of a man who sees an opportunity for a moral lesson, leans in and says…
“My son, arthritis is caused by loose living, indulging in the company of wicked women, and drinking excessive amounts of alcohol.”
The drunk man’s eyes widen, and he nods slowly, as if he’s just heard the secrets of the universe…
“Well, I’ll be darned,” he mutters, shaking his head with genuine bewilderment.
He turns back to his newspaper, a thoughtful frown creasing his lipstick-streaked face…
The priest, feeling a twinge of guilt for his harsh words, watches the man for a moment.
Perhaps he’s judged him too quickly, he thinks. After all, everyone has their burdens to bear…
With a sigh, he gently nudges the man’s arm and says, “I’m sorry if I was a bit harsh… “
“Tell me, how long have you been suffering from arthritis?”
The drunk looks up, confusion clouding his glassy eyes…
“Me?” he asks, pointing a wobbly finger at his own chest.
