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She threw the swatches on the side-table and replied:


Dear Sir,

Thank you for your most informative letter.

I too have a point of correction - It is perhaps a little contradictory but even though I am a Mother (and a Superior one, to boot) I am not a Mrs. You may call me Miss Gnutsgeschmashen.

I appreciate the time you have taken to answer me but in all honesty I am not surprised about the lateness of your reply. It is sadly an all too common trait in tradesmen nowadays.

One further correction, my elevation to my present position was more due to vaginal lubrication than elbow greasing but I will take your comment as a compliment.

A Beninoise! I am reliably informed that they are hung like a donkey! Is this true? If it is so I would be ever so interested in a closer inspection when you come to visit. I note that you are sadly quiet on the questions I asked regarding length and diameter. Please Sir, you have me aroused, find a warm ruler and report the results to me at your earliest convenience! There is no need to leave your endurance with God, he has no need for such physical attributes. Far better to leave the pleasures of the flesh to the creatures of the flesh. This is a delicate question, but have you been screened for AIDS?

Please be assured I will ensure that the full hospitality of the monastery (but not the convent) shall be at your disposal when you arrive.

Brunhilda Gnutsgeschmashen,
The Mother Abbot Of St.Rumpet's Monastery & Orphanage.
The Mother Superior Of the Convent of the Divine Contractions.

There was a knock at her door.

“Waddayerwant?” she yelled. No answer. She opened the door.

“Oh...hello...”

“Flaccid wimp, eh?”


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