Bob was in a terrible motorcycle accident and his legs weren’t in great shape, to say the least.
After a couple of weeks of therapy, it soon became clear to the doctor that they were just pushing off the inevitable.
Due however, to Bob’s frail condition, the doctor was afraid to give him the bad news. Instead, he gave the sorry job to Bob’s wife of 40 years, hoping that she would know how to break the bad news to him ever so slowly and gently.
“Honey,” said Bob’s wife Eva the next morning, “I’ve got good news and bad news, which one would you like to hear first?”
Bob, always in a morbid state, responded in his usual grumpy voice, “What do I care? Just give me the bad news!”
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“Well dear,” said Eva cupping Bob’s hand with her two hands, “I hate to have to tell you this, but it seems like your legs are going to have to be taken off.”
Bob, barely able to hold his voice from cracking croaked out, “Eva, what’s the good news?”
“The good news” said Eva happily, “is that that the gardener that was in here just before, said he may be interested in buying your slippers from you!”
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