“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I have not been to confession for six months. On top of that, I’ve been with a loose woman.”

The priest sighs. “Is that you, little Tommy O’Shaughnessy?”

“Yes, Father, ’tis I.”

“And who might be the woman you were with?”

“I shan’t be tellin’ you, Father. It would ruin her reputation.”

“Well, Tommy, I’m bound to find out sooner or later, so you may as well tell me now. Was it Brenda O’Malley?”

“I cannot say.”

“Was it Patricia Fitzgerald?”

“I’ll never tell.”

“Was it Lisa O’Shanter?”

“I’m sorry, but I’ll not name her.”

“Was it Cathy O’Dell?”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Was it Fiona Mallory, then?”

“Please, Father, I cannot tell you.”

The priest sighs in frustration. “You’re a steadfast lad, Tommy O’ Shaughnessy, and I admire that. But you’ve sinned, and you must atone. Be off with you now.”

Tommy walks