понедельник, 4 июня 2007 г.

stupid conscience.

My cell phone number must be just a digit off from that of a local funeral home. I often receive calls from old folks asking about funeral arrangements for their relatives.

I received another one of those about five minutes ago. Some elderly lady asked whether we had made arrangements for one Mister Whatshisname yet.

What I did tell her was, "I'm sorry, ma'am, you must have the wrong number."

What I was briefly tempted to tell her was, "Oh yeah, old Bob Whatshisname. We were going to send him off on the Viking ship out on Fort Loudoun Lake at dawn tomorrow, and then light him up with flaming arrows all Nordic-style. Will you be supplying the virgin for the sacrifice, or do we have to bring one? 'Cause, you know, that'll add to the bill a little."

3 комментария:

  1. That beats the pager I once had with the exact same 800 number that a high chair/munchkin paraphernalia manufacture once had for customer service. The fun wore thin pretty quickly and I got a new pager.