The Leprechaun’s Question Kept Getting Stranger…
Late one night in rural Ireland, a young nun was praying quietly in the convent chapel when—BANG!—a puff of green smoke exploded beside the altar.
When the smoke cleared, two actual leprechauns were standing there.
Tiny little fellows. Green coats. Red sideburns. Buckled shoes. The whole lot.
One of them stood proudly with his hands behind his back.
The other stared miserably at the floor like his life was over.
The confident leprechaun tipped his hat politely.
“Top o’ the mornin’, Sister. We’ve come with a question.”
The nun blinked twice.
“Are there any leprechaun nuns in this convent?”
The young nun frowned.
“No… I’ve been here five years and I’ve never seen one.”
The leprechaun nodded thoughtfully.
“Right… but five years isn’t terribly long. Is there perhaps someone older we could ask?”
“Well,” she said, “Mother Superior has been here nearly sixty years.”
“Perfect.”
So the nun led the two little men upstairs and down the long stone hallway to Mother Superior’s office.
Mother Superior opened the door… adjusted her glasses… and nearly fainted.
“Sweet heavens…”
The leprechaun smiled politely.
“Sorry to bother ye, Mother, but we were wondering… in all your years here, have you ever known of a leprechaun nun?”
Mother Superior thought carefully.
“No, dear. Never.”
The nervous leprechaun looked even more devastated.
The first leprechaun continued.
“And in the history of the convent? Any records at all?”
“None whatsoever.”
“What about another convent somewhere else in Ireland?”
Mother Superior shook her head.
“I think I’d have heard about that.”
The little leprechaun rubbed his chin.
“Hmmm… well there are convents all over the world. Perhaps somewhere abroad?”
Mother Superior smiled patiently.
“Oh no. If there were such a thing as a leprechaun nun, surely someone would know by now.”
There was a long silence.
Then the confident leprechaun slowly turned toward his miserable friend.
“Told ya, Seamus…” he sighed.
“Ya shagged a penguin.”
A man was walking past a bar when a nun stopped him outside.
She looked disappointed and said,
“My son, alcohol is a terrible temptation. Drunkenness separates a man from the Lord.”
The man shrugged.
“Lady, I’m just going in for one beer.”
“One beer becomes two,” the nun replied. “Two becomes a habit.”
The man smiled.
“Well, how do you know drinking is so bad if you’ve never tried it?”
The nun frowned.
“I have never touched alcohol in my life.”
“Then let me buy you one,” the man said. “Just a small drink. You might be surprised.”
The nun hesitated.
“Well…” she said quietly, “perhaps one glass would do no harm. But I don’t want people talking.”
“Fair enough,” the man said.
“And,” the nun added, “have the bartender put it in a coffee mug.”
The man walked into the bar and said,
“Can I get a whiskey in a coffee mug?”
The bartender rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Let me guess…” he said.
“That d*mn nun is outside again?”
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