My mother is shopping for shoes. Suddenly she turns to me with a pained look.
“Please, I beg you, tell me honestly, am I dying?” she asks. “I don’t want to buy the shoes if it turns out I won’t live to wear them. That’s such a waste of money.”
“Well, we’ve got to bury you in something,” I answer.
Our humor is very dark. I wouldn’t make this joke to anybody who’s not one of us.
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