I like to amuse myself by scaring every hippie I see strutting down the street wearing their obnoxious hippie attire, too stoned to know what is going on and basking in their own horrid stench. I swerve my car as if to hit them, then swerve back just barely missing them.
One day I was driving along and saw a priest. I figured I was overdue for a good deed, so I pulled over and asked the priest “Where are you going, Father?” “I’m going to give Mass at St. Francis church, about two miles down the road here,” replied the priest. “Hop in and I’ll give you a ride Father” I chimed and the priest climbed into my car.
On we continue, when all of the sudden I see an especially dirty smelly hippie walking down the road. I couldn’t help myself, so I swerved as if to hit the hippie getting within inches of his nastiness before swerving back.
While I knew I had missed the hippie, I still heard a loud THUD. I looked everywhere and couldn’t see what I had hit in time (we were moving pretty fast). Then I realized, there was a priest in my car, so I started to apologize emphatically: “I’m so sorry Father, I can’t believe I almost hit that hippie!” to which he replied: