Peeps and Priests

Yesterday at Michael's craft store another gal and I kept passing each other in the isles.  We'd smile and get lost in our own creative dreams again until the next time.  After several of these, I felt like we were almost friends.  The last time I saw her she was almost choking on a little yellow Easter 'peep'.  Half of it was gone and the other part was goo-ily sticking to her fingers as she tried to get it in her mouth.  As she licked her fingers, she asked if I had seen the priest all decked out in priestly garb come in the front door, just as she was popping her unpaid for as yet 'peep' in her mouth?  Her expression looked just like a guilty 4 year old who had gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar.  I had to hold on to my cart to keep upright.  We both got to laughing hard enough for our sides to split.  The store echoed with it.  I finally saw him at the check out, but the way he hurried out, black skirt swirling around his legs, I don't think he was concerned about a woman enjoying her peep, reliving her childhood both ways.  Indulging.  Busted.  Confession.