Two nuns were shopping at a 7-Eleven on a blisteringly hot summer afternoon. Even inside the store, the air felt heavy.
As they passed the beer cooler, one nun slowed and peered through the glass.
“Wouldn’t a nice, cold beer taste wonderful on a day like this?” she said.
The second nun nearly stumbled.
“It would, Sister,” she replied carefully, “but buying beer would cause quite a scene at checkout.”
The first nun smiled.
“I can handle that.”
Before the other could object, she grabbed a six-pack and headed to the counter.
The cashier froze. He stared at the habits. Then the beer. Then back again.
Before he could speak, the nun leaned in.
“We use beer to wash our hair at the convent. We call it Catholic shampoo.”
The cashier nodded thoughtfully, reached under the counter, and placed a bag of pretzel sticks beside the beer.
“You’ll want these too,” he said. “They’re half-price.”
“Why pretzels?” the second nun whispered.
“Every shampoo needs conditioner.”
That evening, the two nuns sat under an oak tree in the courtyard.
“To clean hair,” the first nun said, opening a bottle.
The second nun hesitated—then accepted one.
“Well, if we’re committing this sin, we might as well do it properly.”
They clinked bottles just as Sister Margaret appeared.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Personal hygiene,” came the reply. “A new method.”
Sister Margaret eyed the bottles.
“That’s beer.”
“Yes. For our hair.”
“…Does it work?”
“It gives excellent body,” the nun said. “And great peace.”
Sister Margaret sighed.
“Just don’t tell the bishop.”
Then she paused.
“If you go back tomorrow, get me the dark ale. My hair’s been dry.”
And that’s how the convent became the only place in town where beer sales mysteriously spiked every summer—
all in the name of proper Catholic shampoo. 🍺😇
