I was walking down the street singing that old Louis Armstrong tune
‘What a Wonderful World,’ when a guy stopped in front of me.
     Putting a gun to my chest he said, “I want all your money, your credit
cards, and if you have a house, I want that too!”
     No longer singing, I said to him, “A moment ago I thought it was a
wonderful world, but now I’m not so sure!”
     “I’m sure that unless you hand over what I just asked for, you’ll hear
me singing that old Beatles song, ‘Happiness is a Warm Gun.’ And then. . .”
     “I remember that song,” I interrupted, “and without a doubt the Beatles
were not advocating gun violence. You’ve taken things out of context!”
     “Speaking of context,” he replied, “I’m now going to count to ten, and
if I don’t have your wallet, you’ll be singing ‘Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door’
to a pack of angels.”
     “Okay, okay,” I said, taking out my wallet and handing it to him.
     “Now where do you live?” he said in a less than friendly tone.
     After giving him the address of a friend that lives nearby, who owns
three of the meanest pit bulls on the planet, he continued on his way while
I continued on mine, singing, ‘Que Sera, Sera.’
     When I arrived home, my friend called soon after to tell me that some guy
broke into his house and that his dogs took good care of him. “And believe it
or not,” he continued, “the guy had your wallet in his pocket, containing a fair
amount of cash and several credit cards.”
     “Thanks for telling me!” I responded. “And, yes, I’ll be glad to come over
and help you bury the body. . .”