Will we still need nuns in outer space? That was the question on everyone's lips as the symposium ground on into its third day. According to one of the papers presented, nuns are being emitted from black holes at a slower and slower rate. Back at the motel, I resented him orbiting the bed. When room service came we had no choice but to inform them: No one here ordered the cream cheese. If you want to impress someone, you'll swallow a tiger. Still, even with the best metaphors in the world, you can't kill germs on contact.
Where are tomorrow's nuns coming from? The question hung in the air like a pair of underwear from a ceiling fan. He packed up his briefcase as if he were an authority on something. Why not? Because we just couldn't, that's why! The last nun left without a fight but with the salt-shaker. What we overheard in the hall does not bear repeating.
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