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Good Old Dave

Morris walks out into the street and manages to get a taxi just going by. He gets into the taxi, and the cabbie says, "Perfect timing.  You're just like Dave."

"Who?"

"Dave Aronson.  There's a guy who did everything right.  Like my coming along when you needed a cab.  It would have happened like that to Dave."

"There are always a few clouds over everybody," says Morris.

"Not Dave.  He was a terrific athlete.  He could have gone on the pro tour in tennis.  He could golf with the pros.  He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star."

"He was something, huh?"

"He had a memory like a trap.  Could remember everybody's birthday.  He knew all about wine, which fork to eat with.  He could fix anything.  Not like me.  I change a fuse, and I black out the whole neighborhood."

"No wonder you remember him."

"Well, I never actually met Dave."

"Then how do you know so much about him?" asks Morris.

"Because I married his widow."

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