When Joe Biden walked into the quaint, centuries-old Catholic church for his annual confession, the parishioners had no idea they were about to witness a Guinness World Record When into the quaint, centuries-old Catholic church for his annual confession, the parishioners had no idea they were about to witness a Guinness World Record usual. What should have been a quick 10-15 minute soul-cleanse turned into an almost four-and-a-half-hour spiritual marathon, complete with pizza breaks and plot twists that would make a soap opera blush.
As Biden knelt down in the confessional booth, Father O'Malley braced himself for the usual list of minor sins and political fibs. But the President had other plans. He kicked off with a detailed account of the time he accidentally called the Pope "Your Majesty" during a diplomatic visit. "I swear, Father, I thought he was about to knight me," Biden chuckled.
Minutes turned into hours as Biden delved into every gaffe, every misstep, and every time he misplaced his reading glasses during a speech. The priest's eyes glazed over somewhere between the 89th "Oops, I did it again" moment and Biden's confession of repeatedly forgetting Kamala Harris' name. "It's not my fault," he pleaded, "sometimes I think she's Oprah!"
At the two-hour mark, the air in the confessional was thick with the aroma of incense and... was that pepperoni? Both Biden and Father O'Malley were famished. They decided to order Domino's, a first in the church's history. "Father, do you think God prefers thin crust or deep dish?" Biden mused as they waited for their delivery.
Domino's, never one to miss a marketing opportunity, promptly delivered their finest pizza to the church. The sight of the President and a priest munching on pizza in a confessional booth could have been a Renaissance painting, if Michelangelo had a sense of humor. "Forgive me, Father, for I have snacked," Biden quipped, biting into a slice.
Re-energized by the heavenly pizza, Biden's confession took on a new vigor. He recounted his secret obsession with watching reruns of "Green Acres" and his inexplicable habit of misplacing the nuclear codes in the freezer. Father O'Malley, now part-time priest, part-time therapist, could barely keep up. "Mr. President, I think you might need to see a different kind of doctor for some of these," he suggested kindly.
By the time Biden wrapped up his confessional epic, the sun had long set, and the church was lit only by the flickering candles and the glow of Biden's phone as he ordered a second round of pizzas. The parishioners, who had gathered outside, waiting for their turn, started a pool to bet on the finish time. The smart money was on sunrise.
Finally, after four and a half hours, the booth door creaked open, and Biden emerged, looking lighter and oddly serene. Father O'Malley, a hero in his own right, gave him a penance that included ten Hail Marys and a strong suggestion to write his memoirs as fiction for comedic purposes.
As Biden exited the church, he turned to Father O'Malley and said, "See you next year, Father. Maybe we can make it a pizza party tradition!" The priest, clutching his rosary and a slice of pepperoni, could only nod in exhausted agreement.
And thus, the legend of Biden's Marathon Confession was born, a tale that would be told in whispered reverence and belly-aching laughter for years to come.
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