F3 Grammar Clergy

William attempted to keep himself from trembling as he approached the Confessional. His stomach churned and heaved with fear, and he licked his lips.
He walked into the space, closing the door behind him. He sat patiently, trying to order his thoughts.
He had sinned, and he needed to become clean again. He well knew the price of such sin. Charlie still suffered, and so long as he rejected the teachings, he would languish, forever outcast.
The door behind the screen slid open.
"I am here, my son." The gentle, firm voice of the Father said.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession. I have had dangling modifiers, comma splices, and confused verb tenses. And," he paused, trembling, truly afraid to reveal this grievous sin.
"Courage, my son. We all sin, but through confession we can find grace and mercy."
"I had . . . thoughts, Father."
"What kind of thoughts?"
"I wanted to . . . " he took a ragged breath, "I wanted to use text shortcuts." Tears began rolling down his face.
"Oh, my son, do not despair. It is natural, especially with such great sin in the world, but you can overcome such thoughts. For your penance, you must recite the comma rules five times, conjugate the irregular verbs three times, and write an essay on the evils of texting."
"Thank you, Father."