Confessionals

friday confessional for january 30: fornicating with an ex’s wife

confession3
Father Muskrat:  Oh my.  I’ve seen posters hanging at the post office depicting more innocent-looking people than you appear today.  What’s up?
Countessa:  Well…see…it’s been a few years, but I sorta committed adultery, I think.
FM:  What?  Like being “sorta ” gay?  Or “sorta” pregnant?  Or “sorta” Republican?
Countessa:  Funny you should suggest such:  I slept with my ex-husband’s wife.  It was before she was his wife, though.  It was, like, years ago.  It was–
FM:  Just how many people live in your Mississippi trailer park anyway?
Countessa:  Father!
FM:  I’m sorry.  I’m afraid this story is a bit too far-fetched.  I need evidence.  Do you have any film depicting the vile acts you performed with this poor, unsuspecting woman?
Countessa:  Well, technically, I tied her up and did bad sexual nasty things to her. There wasn’t really a with; it was definitely more of a to situation.
FM:  Narcissus’s nethers!  I’m appalled!  Now where do I stash my horse whip?  Ah, yes, there it is, next to my chaps.
Countessa:  That’s not the confessional part, Father Freaky.
FM:  You mean you taped it?  Because that really would be appalling, and frankly, such evidence would need to be kept in my locker here to assure a discernible chain of custody, and…did you just call me “Freaky”?
Countessa:  Freaky freak! I knew it. And yes, there’s video somewhere of her in blue saran wrap and duct tape being
“stimulated”.
FM:  Aphrodite’s areola!
Countessa:  The actual confession part is – I want to do it again, except with more appliances and more hanky-spanky  stuff. Am I going to hell for lusting after my ex-husband’s wife?
FM:  Bacchus’s backside!  I’m afraid you’d enjoy Hell too much.  Actually, you need to join a convent, pledge a life of celibacy, and assign yourself to a Catholic school, where the only beatings you administer will be to the knuckles of anyone singing Death Cab for Cutie covers.  Got it?
Countessa:  Do I get to follow them into the dark?
FM:  Get out of my booth.

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This is too twisted for even Muskrat to make up.  No poetic license taken.  For further readings by Countessa, check out her blog at memmunch.diaryland.com.  If you’d like to participate in a Friday’s confessional, please email your transgression(s) to muskratblog[at]gmail.com.  Or, confess with impunity in comments!

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12 Comments

  1. At least I don’t have to put a hot butter knife in my eye. *grin*

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  2. I think just forcing her to drive a minivan and wear a helmet would be punishment enough…

    Theresa B’s last blog post..Getting My Move On

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  3. freaks ‘fess on Fridays. Father finds fun. followers fofl.

    (fofl, fall on floor laughing)

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  4. This is really intriguing in a Jungian way. Her ex’s wife sort of holds her place in the future, or the past, or something. So in essence she hot for doing it to/with herself via time travel. I like it.

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  5. I’m with Theresa B. Have her drive the mini van for a day. 😉

    Brenda-SeriouslyMama’s last blog post..Disney On Ice tickets! It’s another giveaway!

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  6. Damn, you get the best confessions.

    Jim’s last blog post..The Spider

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  7. Hi friend.. Nice cool post.. Do visit my blog and post your comments.. Take care mate.. Cheers!!!

    [Reply]

  8. How the hell does she “get off” so easy (no pun intended) I mean, no poker, no knive in toaster, no name calling, no drunk santa’s stinking of mad-dog, and no wrinkle washing… wait…”a life of celibacy” ok yeah her punishment is WAY more extreme than mine.

    /grin

    Siren’s last blog post..Yesterday Sucked!

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  9. Countessa, That’s true. I must’ve been in a happy place last night.

    TheresaB, While I applaud your obvious attention to previous posts, I don’t like what you’re insinuating. Maybe you need a hot poker to the eye?

    AvatGardener, I don’t see much rolling today. Their loss. I was amused.

    Deb, Was that Jung? I thought he just helped us come up with personality types. Didn’t Dr Emmit Brown invent time travel?

    Brenda, Then I’ll suggest the poker eye for you, too.

    Jim, I think I’m the only game in town. Feel free to send your own confessions, like about arachnophobia.

    Ocean, I don’t think we’re mates, are we? You’re too cold right now.

    Siren, Much worse. She was dirtier (but not by much).

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  10. That’s funny. I have to keep that blue saran wrap and duct tape in mind. I have a full fledged “date” coming up soon. Hmmm……

    Mama Dawg’s last blog post..Super Fun Sunday!

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  11. *gasp* did she? did she really just get kicked out of the booth!? for shame…

    ChurchPunkMom’s last blog post..We don’t eat fingers…. jus’ sayin’..

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  12. You are too damn much!

    [Reply]

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