Bertha looked up at Betty from her deathbed and said, “Betty, 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, Bertha passed on.
A few nights later, Betty was awakened from a sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to her, “Betty, Betty.”
“Who is it?” asked Betty, sitting up suddenly. “Who is it?”
“Betty — it’s me, Bertha.”
“You’re not Bertha. Bertha just died.”
“I’m telling you, it’s me, Bertha,” insisted the voice.
“Bertha! Where are you?”
“In heaven,” replied Bertha. “I have some really good news and a little bad news.”
“Tell me the good news first,” said Betty.
“The good news,” Bertha said, “is that there’s women’s softball in heaven. Better yet, all of our old buddies who died before me are here, too. Even better than that, we’re all young again. Better still, it’s always springtime and it never rains or snows. And best of all, we can play softball all we want, and we never get tired.”
“That’s fantastic,” said Betty. “It’s beyond my wildest dreams! So what’s the bad news?”
“You’re pitching Tuesday.”
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