“Forgive me, Father. I’ve intentionally skipped the last few Sunday Masses without good reason.”
Yeah, Mass just wasn’t the same without him. I was so sad…
The whole point of Mass is to talk to all my mouth-breathing parishioners at once, so they don’t ruin my week by coming in one at a time to chat. But this imbecile feels the need to trundle in and take me away from my gardening on a Tuesday afternoon just so I can listen to this total non-sin. It’s even worse how much he thanks me after confession, like I’ve done him some huge favor. I think talking to me might be the best part of his week, and it’s by far the worst part of mine.
Pro-Tip: If you’ve got a sad little idiot life, don’t come to confession, because it really bums me out.