A woman who died found herself standing outside the
Pearly Gates, being greeted by St. Peter.
She asked him, "Oh, is this place what I really think it is? It's so beautiful.
Did I really make it to heaven?"
To which St. Peter replied, "Yes, my dear, these are the Gates to Heaven. But you must do one more thing before you can enter." The woman was very excited, and asked of St. Peter what she must do to pass through the gates. "Spell a word," St. Peter replied. "What word?" she asked.
"Any word," answered St. Peter. "It's your choice." The woman promptly replied, "Then the word I will spell is love.L-o-v-e."
St. Peter congratulated her on her good fortune to have made it to Heaven, and asked her if she would mind taking his place at the gates for a few minutes while he went to the bathroom.
"I'd be honored," she said, "but what should I do if someone comes while you are gone?"
St. Peter reassured her, and instructed the woman to simply have any newcomers to the Pearly Gates to spell a word as she had done.
So the woman is left sitting in St. Peter's chair and watching the beautiful angels soaring around her when a man approaches the gates. She realizes it is her loser husband.
"What happened?" she cried, "Why are you here?"
Her husband stared at her for a moment, then said, "I was so drunk when I left your funeral, I was in an accident. And now I am here? Did I really make it to Heaven?"
To which the woman replied, "Not yet. You must spell a word first."
"What word?" he asked.
The woman responded, "Czechoslovakia."
She asked him, "Oh, is this place what I really think it is? It's so beautiful.
Did I really make it to heaven?"
To which St. Peter replied, "Yes, my dear, these are the Gates to Heaven. But you must do one more thing before you can enter." The woman was very excited, and asked of St. Peter what she must do to pass through the gates. "Spell a word," St. Peter replied. "What word?" she asked.
"Any word," answered St. Peter. "It's your choice." The woman promptly replied, "Then the word I will spell is love.L-o-v-e."
St. Peter congratulated her on her good fortune to have made it to Heaven, and asked her if she would mind taking his place at the gates for a few minutes while he went to the bathroom.
"I'd be honored," she said, "but what should I do if someone comes while you are gone?"
St. Peter reassured her, and instructed the woman to simply have any newcomers to the Pearly Gates to spell a word as she had done.
So the woman is left sitting in St. Peter's chair and watching the beautiful angels soaring around her when a man approaches the gates. She realizes it is her loser husband.
"What happened?" she cried, "Why are you here?"
Her husband stared at her for a moment, then said, "I was so drunk when I left your funeral, I was in an accident. And now I am here? Did I really make it to Heaven?"
To which the woman replied, "Not yet. You must spell a word first."
"What word?" he asked.
The woman responded, "Czechoslovakia."
An idiot decided to start a chicken farm, so he
bought a hundred chickens to start. A month later, he returned to the dealer
for another hundred chickens because all of the first lot had died. A month
later he was back at the dealers for another hundred chickens for the second
lot had also died. "But I think I know where I'm going wrong," said
the idiot. "I think I am planting them too deep."
When Mozart passed away, he was buried in a churchyard.
A couple
days later, the town drunk was walking through the cemetery and heard
some strange noises coming from the area where Mozart was buried.
Terrified, the drunk ran and got the priest to come and listen to it.
The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave. Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.
When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave,
listened for a moment, and said, "Ah, yes, that's Mozart's Ninth Symphony,
being played backwards."
He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony,
And it's backwards, too. Most puzzling."
So the magistrate kept listening; "There's the Seventh... the
Sixth...the Fifth..." Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned
on the magistrate; he stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the
cemetery. "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Mozart decomposing."
days later, the town drunk was walking through the cemetery and heard
some strange noises coming from the area where Mozart was buried.
Terrified, the drunk ran and got the priest to come and listen to it.
The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave. Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.
When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave,
listened for a moment, and said, "Ah, yes, that's Mozart's Ninth Symphony,
being played backwards."
He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony,
And it's backwards, too. Most puzzling."
So the magistrate kept listening; "There's the Seventh... the
Sixth...the Fifth..." Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned
on the magistrate; he stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the
cemetery. "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Mozart decomposing."
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