*****Warning: foul language ahead*****
“Man, I fucking hate my goddamned job,” said the teacher to the priest. “Don’t I know how you feel,” came the somber reply.
The 2 of them sat in the back of a darkened little church passing a bottle of communion wine back and forth while willing an old, chipped ashtray with cigarette butts.
“What’s the name of that Greek fellow who had to roll the rock up and down the mountain for eternity? Sisy-something? Anyhow, I feel like him, except my rock has a fucking foul mouth, bad attitude and may well be armed.”
“Thankless work to be sure, trying to teach those who can’t or won’t learn. Tryin’ to save those who can’t or won’t be saved.”