A Catholic man was struck by a bus on a busy street. He was near death lying on the sidewalk as a crowd gathers.
"A priest! Somebody please get me a priest!" the man gasped. Minutes dragged on and no one stepped out of the crowd.
A policeman checked the crowd and finally yelled, "A PRIEST, PLEASE! Isn't there a priest in this crowd to give this man his last rites?"
Finally, out of the crowd stepped a little old Jewish man of at least eighty years of age. "Mr. Policeman," says the man, "I'm not a priest, I'm not even a Christian, but for fifty years now I've been living behind the Catholic Church on First Avenue, and every night I overhear their services. I can recall a lot of it, and maybe I can be of some comfort to this poor man." The policeman agreed, and cleared the crowd so the man could get through to where the injured man lay.
The old Jewish man knelt down, leaned over the man and said in a solemn voice: "B-4 I-19 N-38 G-54 O-72"
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