A woman goes to the see a psychic in hopes of contacting her dearly departed grandmother.
The psychic’s eyelids begin fluttering, her voice begins warbling, her hands float up above the table and she begins moaning. Eventually, a coherent voice emanates, and says: “Granddaughter? Are you there?”
The customer, wide-eyed and on the edge of her seat, responds: “Grandmother? Is that you?”
“Yes granddaughter, it’s me.”
“It’s really, really you, grandmother?”, the woman repeats.
“Yes, it’s really me, granddaughter.”
The woman looks puzzled: “You’re sure it’s you, grandmother?”
“Yes, granddaughter, I’m sure it’s me.”
The woman pauses a moment: “Grandmother, I have just one question for you.”
“Anything, my child.”
“Grandmother, when did you learn to speak English?”