The problem with the nuns at Our Lady of Immeasurable Sorrow was that they had supersonic hearing, and that they were immortal. Most students figured the sisters could read minds, and it took so much of the children’s concentration to keep impure thoughts suppressed, hardly anyone misbehaved.
Scott Finnegan, however, was nothing but trouble: he fidgeted, his shirts were always untucked, and most days he fell asleep in class.
One morning Sister Mary Crapaud woke him with a sharp rap to the skull.
“Quit it, you old biddy!” Scott blurted out. The room went dead silent. Scott’s eyes filled with the fear of God. “I’m sorry!” He squeaked.
“This insolence will not go unpunished.” Sister Crapaud croaked.
The next day Scott was not in class. No one even acknowledged his empty seat. And that day at Morning Mass, the host wafers seemed especially fresh. In fact, they were still warm.
Jess
