Breakfast on Pluto Page #3
you throw peanuts in the river, too?"
"No, Father, I am Peanuts."
Not a very funny joke...
but she laughed and she laughed.
In fact, you could say
My skirt and housecoat are riding up.
Better abort this task at once...
or we could have an exploding clergyman
filling the air with pent-up sexual energy.
Oh, no!
-Priest grows wings in latest miracle.
-Eily!
"When she found herself enveloped
by his skirts. "
Now, Father, is this another joke?
That hurt, Father.
Frank Sinatra wouldn't do this, Father.
Neither would Vic Damone.
I'm all wet, Father.
What are you doing down there, Father?
Are you playing squidgy
with my Fairy Liquid?
But she was soon to realize...
it wasn't Fairy Liquid
he'd been playing with down there.
The end.
No...
it wasn't Fairy Liquid at all.
"...privates go sprong."
"Privates go...."
How dare you?
When I said, "develop your literary skills"...
I did not, repeat, not, mean this.
Why did you write it?
I thought there was a moral, sir.
A lesson, if you will.
Get out of this classroom, Braden!
To the Dean's office!
Hello, class. My name is Miss Kitten...
and I'd like to tell you about the perils
of being a priest's housekeeper...
especially when you look like Mitzi Gaynor.
Hands up who can tell me
So, you see, Patrick, we're on your side.
We're here to help you.
I don't think you understand that.
Well, no, you're wrong, Father. I do.
So, if you can think of anything
that would help us to help you, well....
Well...
there is one thing, Father.
-Instead of PE...
-Yeah.
...I could take Home Economics
and Needlework class.
And you think that would help you...
knuckle down and apply yourself?
What's that, Patrick?
Oh, and you can call me Kitten, Father.
Kitten?
after Saint Kitten.
Well, now,
there was no Saint Kitten, Patrick.
Oh, no,
but there was a Saint Cettin, Father...
and some have been known to call him...
or was it a her...
Kitten.
Saint Kitten?
He or she was an acolyte of Saint Patrick.
Wore a dress. As did Saint Patrick, actually.
A hairy dress.
Quite ruined her complexion.
And they're for your sister, Patrick?
Oh, she really needs a bit of glamour
in her life, Mrs. Coyle.
But then again, don't we all?
The trouble broke out as the Minister
of State for Northern Ireland, Mr. Channon...
was visiting Derry
to see businessmen there...
for the second time inside a month.
Jesus, Mammy, I'm exhausted.
At least you have a job...
which is more than that waster yonder
is ever likely to have.
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"Breakfast on Pluto" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Mar. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/breakfast_on_pluto_4638>.
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