Minutes before the cremation, the undertaker quietly sat down next to the grieving widow. “How old was your husband?” he asked.
“He was ninety-eight,” she answered softly. “Two years older than I am.”
“Really?” the undertaker said. “Hardly worth going home, wouldn’t you say?”
H/T DML
Monday, 6 October 2008
From Theo Spark at 06:58
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