I thought of the perfect storyline today. Take a deep breath, and wait for it.

It starts with a nun. Why? Well because no one would expect that. Then, the nun falls in love with the delivery guy. You know the sort—ripped shirt, delivering bananas to the back door. Turns out, though, that when she tries to make a move on the hunkster, he backs away and confesses in a scream that he’s got a man. Oops. No one saw that coming, right? But it doesn’t matter, because the sister superintendent or whatever won’t tolerate scandal, or hand-holding, or hanky-panky  or any more bananas, so it’s out on the streets with sister frisky hands. What then? Well, she becomes what every good ex-nun resorts to: fag haggery. That’s right, she dons hoopy ’80s earrings and belts across her oversized chemises, and it’s off to gay bars to be comforted by boys with too much mascara. But a twist: She’s busy telling and re-telling her woeful tale of a fall from nundom when a lesbian starts to hit on her—a bright-eyed girl with a John Deere t-shirt. It doesn’t occur to her what’s going on, until there’s some affectionate touching. Next thing she knows, she’s down and out after five vodka tonics and wakes up the next morning with miss-marry-me-tomorrow. Freaking out, sister frisky hands runs away and mopes on the streets with doleful chords and a few sad violins churning in the background. The camera slows, she pauses, and suddenly realizes: she really was meant to be a nun. It’s a conversion thing, kind of like what happened to Paul. Get me? Anyway, the next morning, she takes bus #5 across town to the nunnery and knocks on the pure, white, sacred, holy, awesome Jesus doors. Sister-second-in-charge answers with her habit all neatly done up and her face in a permascowl. They talk. The door is slammed in our misguided sister’s face. She starts to walk away, then the grouchy old nun opens the grand door and apologizes, professing to have been very unChristian indeed. So in the two go, and back to a life of rosaries and bananas. Without the hoop earrings.

Best seller, don’t you think?