The priest stared at her in stunned disbelief.
“You mean… there’s still hope for us?!”
The nun nodded frantically and pointed toward the frozen sand where their supplies lay scattered.
“Yes!” she cried. “If you stick that thing into the camel… we can finally use it to pump air into the mattress!”
The priest blinked.
“…The mattress?”
“The air mattress!” the nun shouted. “We’ve been sleeping on the ground for three nights because neither of us could figure out how to inflate it!”
The priest stood there completely frozen.
Then slowly looked down at himself.
Then back at the nun.
Then at the rolled-up camping mattress beside the dead camel.
Silence.
A very long silence.
Finally the nun frowned and asked:
“Father… what exactly did YOU think I meant?”
The priest’s face turned so red it nearly glowed in the moonlight.
“I—well—I just thought—”
The nun crossed her arms.
“You thought what?”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Then finally muttered:
“I suddenly understand why the bishop sent me to the desert instead of the seminary retreat.”
The nun stared at him for three seconds…
then burst into laughter so hard she nearly fell into the sand.
And for the first time in days, both of them forgot they were lost at all.
