Some years back, when my mate Stephen died, the catholic priest, from country Victoria, came to the house for the wake. Amongst all the gay men present, he got drunk on too much wine and had to stay.
In the middle of the night, I went to the kitchen to get a drink. I’m good in the dark, so I never have to put lights on. I’m like a rabbit, I eat my carrots.
As I stood in the dark in my jocks drinking juice straight from the juice carton, I could see over to the other wing of the house and into Stephen’s handsome partner, Phillip’s bedroom. And I could see the priest comforting the widow Phillip, with what was obviously Phillip’s cock in his mouth.
I pulled the orange juice carton away from my lips. What are you doing? I thought.
God will bless you for this my son... you are a mighty fine, young mane, I thought next. That made me smile.
I was pretty sure catholic priests shouldn’t be doing that.
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