Scene: Sts. Valentine and Patrick are standing back to back, arms folded, looking extremely grumpy.
Valentine: “I was beheaded for trying to convert the friggin’ Roman Emperor.”
Patrick: “I was kidnapped, sold into slavery, escaped, then came back and converted my captors.”
Valentine: “And now…”
Patrick: “My feast is just a day for people to pretend they’re Irish as an excuse to get drunk.”
Valentine: “And my feast is, at best, a chance to buy bad candy and weak greeting cards, and at worst an extra chance for fornication and general unchastity.”
At this point St. Nicholas passes by, not noticing them. Valentine and Patrick watch him thoughtfully for a moment.
Patrick: "'Course, I suppose it could be worse."