We’re not terrible people. Really.

Driving home late one night, Dave complained of a scratchy throat. Being the good wife that I am, I offered him a mint or a Lifesaver to take his mind off the scratchiness. He selected the Lifesaver option, so I dug one of my individually-wrapped, assorted-fruit-flavor sugar rings out of my purse and unwrapped it for him. I held it out for him to take, but he opened his mouth and said “Ahh”, with his tongue out.
“Really? You want me to feed it to you?”
He nodded and grunted in the affirmative, tongue still out.
I put the candy on his tongue, at which point he drew it into his mouth and said in all sacriliciousness: “Body of Christ.” I tell you, you can take the Catholic out of church…
“Wow, honey, if that’s the body of Christ, he’s got some serious diabetes.”
He shrugged. “Hey, he’s made up of all those white bread wafers. Nothing but carbs will do that to a person.”
“So, refined carbs were Jesus’ downfall?”
He considered that for a second. “Yeah. That and the Romans.”

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