O, Lord, help me:
to forgive my children for their hopeless taste in music,
to hold dear my wife in spite of her propensity to pay retail prices for luxury items,
especially shoes,
to cherish my relatives in spite of their constant borrowing of money,
to survive the driving of my fellow commuters,
to forebear the laziness of my co-workers,
and lastly,
grant me the strength to look my twenty-three year old secretary in the eye,
as opposed to staring at her ample cleavage.
(Or, at least, grant her the charity to lean over a little further when I do.)
***
Title by: j
Story by: David
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