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Meowing the truth

INT. SAINT MITTENS CATHEDRAL CONFESSION BOOTH, EVENING

(door over latticed screen slides open)

FATHER OSCAR: Good evening, my feline.

SIMBA: Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was yesterday. But today I clawed up the couch in a bad way and defecated in Larry’s slippers again. I…I can’t seem to stop. Father, can I still be saved?

FATHER OSCAR: No.

SIMBA: What?

FATHER OSCAR: Only dogs go to heaven, I’m afraid. We cats are doomed to perdition.

SIMBA: You mean I’ve been coming here for the last three years to confess shitting in Larry’s footwear for nothing? That I could have just spewed fecal matter everywhere with abandon and disregard for any sort of morality? I mean, that’s basically what I’ve done, but I’ve been here repeatedly requesting forgiveness, and it’s all for naught?

FATHER OSCAR: That’s exactly right.

SIMBA: What the fuck, Father? This is an outrage! If this is all a charade, what are you doing here?

FATHER OSCAR: Well, I like the routine of it. And the gossip.

SIMBA: Jesus Christ! You’re only doing this for the dirt?

FATHER OSCAR: I just told you we’re all going to hell. What else do I have? Your turds in sneakers are the best I’m going to do in this life and beyond.

SIMBA: Goddamn it, those are my innermost secrets! I’m all alone so much of the day and I can’t help it, I act out. But this feels like a betrayal.

FATHER OSCAR: It probably is. I’m sorry. I’ve never really confessed this much myself.

(beat)

SIMBA: So…you want to get a drink? I know a place around the corner.

FATHER OSCAR: (exhales) I do love a good bloody Mary.

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