“I have been noticing quite an awfully seriously odd problem lately,” Callum told Senan. “Everytime I ride the 909 from Lindenhurst it’s filled with dead people.”
“Why do you say that?” Senan asked.
“I know they’re dead,” Callum insisted, “Because I’ve been to each of their funerals.”
“Oy,” Senan said.” Maybe they’re visiting form Purgat’ry asking you to pray for them. It happens, you know.”
“I know,” Callum said. “Father O’Connor always talks of that.”
“Hey (Tee hee)” Senan said. “Maybe you’re next in line and they’re trying to give you a bit of a nudge nudge.”
Callum didn’t quite believe him, but the next time he boarded the train, he made sure he went to confession first at St. Gabriel’s. Besides that, he always saw to it that he was careful to smile at the gentlemen and to doff his hat to the ladies.
Alas I haven’t tried
lately. It’s run By Crispina Kemp.