Here is a recent story for you. This is the background. A couple of Sunday's ago I talked to a 90 year old lady at church. She told me that she was an artist in Greenwich Village NYC for many years. She made fused glass art and sold it at over 100 stores in the city. When I told her I was in the arts as well, a bond was struck, and she told me I could call her Jan (name Janet) because that is the name she went by when she was a working artist. She said that she did not think Janet to be an artsy name. We proceeded downstairs to the fellowship hall, with her using what she called "TDC" (translation-that damn cane). When we arrived at the basement, she asked if I wanted to hear a joke....And now for the heart of the story...
She glanced around the fellowship hall with a mischievous twinkle in her eye and asked me if I thought it would be ok for her to tell the joke in there. Curiosity and a bit of good natured devilishness got the best of me, and I told her that we weren't in the sanctuary anymore, and that it would be ok. And so she told me this joke.
Walter, a man who had just turned 89 met his friend, Floyd, at a restaurant in a fancy New York hotel. After dinner, Floyd told Walter that he'd brought him a birthday present but had left it in his room on the 4th floor.
"You will have to go up to room 402 to get it," Floyd told him, "Here is my key."
When Walter arrived at the elevator, he discovered it was out of order, and so he proceeded to walk up. With each flight of stairs he became more and more winded, and by the time he reached the 4th floor, he was out of breath. He unlocked the door and was greeted by a voluptuous blond.
"I am your birthday present," she said, "and I am supposed to give you super sex."
He pondered her proposal while he struggled to get his breath. Finally he was able to speak.
"Thank you, he said, I think I will have the soup." --E. I. Carter