You’re Next

Earlier in my life, I lived in Minnesota. I was single in those days. There was an older guy named John who seemed to have a score-card for who in town was single and who wasn’t.

Given that it was a small town, we often encountered each other at weddings.

Every wedding I attended, John would unfailingly see me. He would greet me with a “You’re next”. Never mind that I wasn’t even dating anyone. The greeting became quickly tiresome.

After the third time this happened, I figured that turn around was fair play. I attended a funeral of a town resident. Of source, John also attended the funeral.

I meet John, and I greeted him with a staid “Hello”.


The man has since died, so I figured that I could now tell the story.


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