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The Heavenly Smuggler: A Hairy Situation at Customs
On a return flight from a luxurious trip to Switzerland, a well-dressed woman found herself seated next to a kindly-looking priest. He had the gentle smile of someone who’d seen the world, and she, with a twinkle in her eye, decided to test just how generous that holy heart could be.
After a few minutes of pleasant small talk, she leaned in and lowered her voice.
“Of course, my child,” the priest replied, his voice kind and reassuring. “What do you need?”
“Well,” she whispered, “I bought a fancy hair removal device. The kind that costs more than a good hotel room. It’s way over the customs allowance. I’m afraid they’ll confiscate it when I land.”
The priest looked slightly startled, but she pressed on.
“You seem so trustworthy. No one would even dream of searching you. Could you hide it under your robe?”
The priest paused. “I suppose I could carry it,” he said slowly. “But I must tell you, I cannot tell a lie.”
She smiled sweetly. “That’s perfect! You won’t even have to. Just let it ride with you.”
Later, at customs, the priest stepped forward. A uniformed officer gave him a polite nod and asked, “Anything to declare, Father?”
The priest answered calmly, “From my head down to my waist, nothing to declare.”
With a serene smile, the priest replied, “Well… there’s something quite special down there. It’s a small device made for ladies. Never been used.”
The customs officer turned bright red, coughed, and waved him through. “Move along, Father… and best of luck to you.”
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