Wicked Chuckle

A couple comes up to a wishing well. The guy leans over, makes a wish, and throws in a penny. His wife decides to make a wish, too, but she leans over too far, falls into the well, and drowns.

The guy says, “Son of a… it works!”

Father O’Grady was saying his goodbyes to the parishioners after his Sunday morning service as he always does when Mary Clancey came up to him in tears. “What’s bothering you so, dear?” inquired Farther O’Grady. “Oh, father, I’ve got terrible news,” replied Mary. “Well what is it, Mary?” “Well, my husband, passed away last night, Father.” “Oh, Mary” said the father, “that’s terrible. Tell me Mary, did he have any last requests?” “Well, yes he did father,” replied Mary. “What did he ask, Mary?” Mary replied, “He said, ‘Please, Mary, put down the gun…'”

The old man had died. A wonderful funeral was in progress and the town’s preacher talked at length of the good traits of the deceased, what an honest man he was, and what a loving husband and kind father he was.

Finally, the widow leaned over and whispered to one of her children, “Go up there and take a look in the coffin and see if that’s your pa.”

In a dark and gloomy room, the fortune teller was startled by what she saw in her crystal ball. She looked up at her customer sitting across the table.

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. Prepare yourself to be a widow. Your husband will die a violent and horrible death this year.”

Visibly shaken, the woman stared at the psychic’s lined face, then at the single flickering candle, then down at her hands.

She took a few deep breaths to compose herself. She simply had to know. She met the fortune teller’s gaze, steadied her voice, and asked, “Will I get away with it?”