Two 90 year old men, Moe and Joe, have been friends all of their lives. >When
>it's clear that Joe is dying, Moe visits him every day. One day Moe says,
> >
> > "Joe, we both loved baseball all our lives, and we played minor league
>ball together for so many years. Please do me one favor, when you get to >Heaven,
>somehow you must let me know if there's baseball there."
> >
> > Joe looks up at Moe from his death bed," Moe, you've been my best >friend
>for many years. If it's at all possible, I'll do this favor for you."
> >
> > Shortly after that, Joe passes on.
> >
> > At midnight a couple of nights later, Moe is awakened from a sound >sleep
>by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to >him,"Moe--Moe."
> >
> > "Who is it?" asks Moe sitting up suddenly.
> >
> > "Moe--it's me, Joe."
> >
> > "You're not Joe. Joe just died."
> >
> > "I'm telling you, it's me, Joe," insists the voice.
> >
> > "Joe! Where are you?"
> >
> > "In heaven", replies Joe. "I have some really good news and a little >bad n
>ews."
> >
> > "Tell me the good news first," says Moe.
> >
> > "The good news," Joe says," is that there's baseball in heaven. Better
>yet, all of our old buddies who died before us are here, too. Better than >that,
>we're all young again. Better still, it's always spring time and it never
>rains or snows. And best of all, we can play baseball all we want, and we >never
>get tired."
> >
> > "That's fantastic," says Moe. "It's beyond my wildest dreams! So what's
>the bad news?"
> >
> > "You're pitching Tuesday."
