So on the wedding night, her new husband, Fred, all fired up for bliss, saw the witch. He scrambled out of bed and ran from the hotel into the street with whatever clothes he could gather. It was July, so a warm night. Scared and confused, he saw a nearby church. There was a light on in the rectory. It was a Catholic church. Fred was not Catholic, but he was desperate. An old Irish pastor, Fr. Flynn, from Donegal, answered the door. "Father, help me," said Fred. "I think I married a witch." Fr. Flynn smiled and said, "Come in lad, and tell me all about it." Fred told the priest what happened. "Is your bride an Irish lass, my boy?" queried Father Flynn. "Well yes," replied Fred. "Well my son, all Irish girls are witches to some extent. That is why there are so many Irish priests who embrace the celibacy!" explained the good Father.
Fred hung his head, crestfallen. "Not to worry lad. There is a solution," said Father Flynn. "What is it?" asked Fred. "You are not a Catholic?"questioned Fr. Flynn. "No, I am not," answered Fred. "Well become a Catholic, go to church regularly, give money to support Holy Mother Church, obey all the rules. All this will keep your wife always looking and acting like a beautiful Irish Catholic wife. Her witch powers will remain dormant."
"But I don't know anything about the Catholic Faith," exclaimed Fred. "Oh, lad, Catholics don't know anything about their faith. They don't read the bible and the mass is in latin. We priests will tell them what to think about God. And you had better make friends with Jesus' Mother if you know what is good for you."
And that is how Fred became a Catholic, and everyone who knew Mrs. Avis, Maureen's married name, thought she was a beautiful Irish Catholic wife.