A Protestant attempts to get into Catholic School

   
   "A Protestant attempts to get into Catholic School"
   
   Brothers, us sons of men shouldn't fight.  Northern Ireland eventually grew.  As a Catholic kid I was baptized as a baby and had taken the Eucharist before adolescence--I figured I knew my place; next, I got sent to Southern Baptist School, where the King James Bible, lacking the Apocrypha, was the order of the day.  First hour of school, heavily read, though stumbling upon Luke's First Chapter, where the Virgin Mother proclaims:  "My soul doth magnify the Lord."  Next, She goes onto say Her Holy Soul will be remembered for every generation--and She is correct, sir.
   Anyway, they would always talk about Catholics, and especially Mary, with heavy suspicion.  My biological mother was on the horn every night fighting for me, and a teacher would take me outside of the classroom the next day, telling me that all Catholics aren't bad.
   Anyway, I still read the King James Bible for the poetry of it all.  But I eventually made it to Catholic School, and a kid from the Baptist School attempted to get in as well, for it was the most-respected school in the city of Little Rock, at the time.
   So, this very shy, Protestant kid goes into the chain-smoking Priest's office--Priests that smoke always keep their vows of celibacy, in my opinion.
   Anyway, the kid was nervous, not understanding the rituals and rich tradition of Catholicism; hence, he asked the Priest:  "Uh, what do I call you?"
   The hardcore Priest was armed with an ascetically wild sense of humor; moreover, he looked down upon the boy, his Roman Collar glistening in the light; next, he said:  "Boy, you call me God."
   But, in the end--we all got along.