Meyer Davidovich was late for an important meeting, and couldn’t find parking. Two times, three times, four times he circled the block.
“Please, Lord, please! Find me a parking spot and I’ll give up gambling, and drinking, and lying! I’ll keep Shabbos! I’ll even go kosher!”
Immediately, a car pulls out in front of Meyer, and he zips into the open spot.
“Never mind, Lord! I already found one.”
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