Two 90-year-old men, Moe and Joe, have been friends all of their
lives.
When it's clear that Joe is dying, Moe visits him every day. One day
Moe says, "Joe, we both loved baseball all our lives, and we played
minor league ball together for so many years. Please do me one
favor: when you get to Heaven, somehow you must let me know if
there's baseball there."
Joe looks up at Moe from his deathbed, "Moe, you've been my best
friend for many years. If it's at all possible, I'll do this favor
for you." Shortly after that, Joe passes on.
At midnight a couple of nights later, Moe is awakened from a sound
sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to
him, "Moe, Moe."
"Who is it?" asks Moe, sitting up suddenly. "Who is it?"
"Moe -- it's me, Joe."
"You're not Joe. Joe just died."
"I'm telling you, it's me, Joe," insists the voice.
"Joe! Where are you?"
"In Heaven," replies Joe. "I have some really good news and a little
bad news."
"Tell me the good news first," says Moe.
"The good news," Joe says, "is that there's baseball in Heaven.
Better yet, all of our old buddies who died before us are here,
too. Better than that, we're all young again. Better still, it's
always springtime, and it never rains or snows. And best of all, we
can play baseball all we want, and we never get tired."
"That's fantastic," says Moe. "It's beyond my wildest dreams! So
what's the bad news?"
"You're pitching Tuesday."
