An Irish Priest is transferred to Iola, Texas.
He rose from his bed one morning. It was a fine Spring day in his new West Texas mission parish. He walked to the window of his bedroom to get a deep breath of the beautiful day outside.
He then noticed there was a jackass lying dead in the middle of his front lawn. So the priest promptly called the local police station. The conversation went like this:
“Good morning. This is Sergeant Jones. How might I help you?”
“And the best of the day to yourself. This is Father O’Malley at St. Ann’s Catholic Church. There’s a jackass lying dead in me front lawn and would ye be so kind as to send a couple o’ yer lads to take care of the matter.”
Sergeant Jones, considering himself to be quite a wit and recognizing the priest’s Irish accent, thought he would have a little fun, replied, “Well now Father, it was always my impression that you people took care of the last rites!”
There was dead silence on the line for a long moment.
Then, Father O’Malley replied, “Aye, ’tis certainly true; but we are also obliged to notify the next of kin first, which is the reason for me call.”