Stop That Coughing
I can’t stop that coughing. I said it over, and over AND OVER on our recent trip. While I didn’t write about it much, I got one of the worst colds I can remember having on our trek to Australia and New Zealand. I’m STILL coughing.
And I spent the whole trip saying, “I can’t stop that coughing.”
MTM finally got sick of it. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Stop that coughing???”
“You mean, Dad hasn’t told you that joke?”
So last night at my To Live Forever presentation at the Charleston County Library, Dad took over the proceedings. He jumped into the aisle, interrupted my epic book-and-walk talk and told his big joke.
This guy, he died in San Francisco. The undertaker put him in this coffin and loaded him in the back of the hearse.
Well, you know how San Francisco is, right? He had made it his wish to be buried in a cemetery up on a hill so he could look out over the bay. So the undertaker was driving him up that hill, and as he neared the top he hit a bump, and the back door of the hearse popped open, and that coffin slid out the back.
It picked up speed as it bumped down a hill, and it blasted through the plate glass window of a pharmacy. Only thing that stopped it was the counter. That coffin rammed into the counter, and the force of it lifted the lid off that casket. The man sat up in it about the time the pharmacist turned around and said, “Can I help you, Sir?”
And the guy in the casket said, “I’m just looking for something to help me stop my coffin.”
Thanks to everyone who came out to the library last night. I saw many familiar faces, and I met people who were new. And, of course, Dad had a big time.
Photo by Cheryl Smithem