Sell My Stuff If I Die

One lazy Sunday morning the wife and I were quiet and thoughtful, sitting around the breakfast table when I said to her unexpectedly, “When I die, I want you to sell all my stuff, immediately.”

“Now why would you want me to do something like that?” she asked.

“I figure a woman as fine as yourself would eventually remarry and I don’t want some other asshole using my stuff.”

She looked at me intently and said: “What makes you think I’d marry another asshole?”

Author: Papa Mike

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