Two monks determined they wanted a break, so that they booked a trip to sunny Hawaii. Wanting to completely calm down and go incognito, they made a pact: no collars, no black fits, nothing that screams “clergy.”
As quickly as they landed, they hit a neighborhood store and stocked up on the wildest vacationer gear they may discover — assume neon shirts, loud floral shorts, flip-flops, outsized sun shades, and straw hats. They seemed like strolling postcards.
The following morning, they strolled right down to the seashore, drinks in hand, absorbing the solar and having fun with the liberty of anonymity.
That’s when a stunning blonde in a tiny bikini walked by, gave them a candy smile, and stated,
“Good morning, Father. Good morning, Father.”
She nodded at every of them and stored strolling, calm as might be.
The monks stared at one another, shocked. How did she know?!
Decided to be unrecognizable, they doubled down. The following day, they returned to the shop and purchased even wilder outfits — mismatched patterns, vacationer hats with dangling beads, socks with sandals — the works.
Feeling utterly undercover, they headed again to the seashore, assured nobody would suspect a factor.
Proper on cue, the identical blonde appeared — this time in a good skimpier bikini. She walked proper up, smiled once more, and stated,
“Good morning, Father. Good morning, Father.”
One of many monks jumped up.
“Alright, younger girl — we surrender. Sure, we’re monks. However how on earth do you know?”
She laughed, leaned in, and stated,
“Oh, come on, Father… it’s me — Sister Angela!”
