With a frown wrinkling his forehead, little Johnny was working hard at his father’s desk scratching a pen along a page of his paper. His mother asked, “Are you writing a letter to your little girlfriend, Son?” “Nope,” he grunted, “It’s a letter to myself.” “Well,” she smiled, “What are you going to write about?” “How should I know?” he squeaked, “I haven’t received it yet.”
Posted on: Wed, 31 Jul 2013 13:21:59 +0000
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