Morris walks out into the street and manages to get a taxi just going by.
He gets into the taxi, and the cab driver says,
“Perfect timing. You’re just like Dave.”
“Who?”
“Dave Aronson.
There’s a guy who did everything right.
Like my coming along when you needed a cab.
It would have happened like that to Dave.”
“There are always a few clouds over everybody,” says Morris.
“Not Dave. He was a terrific athlete.
He could have gone on the pro tour in tennis.
He could golf with the pros.
He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star.”
“He was something, huh?”
“He had a memory like a trap.
Could remember everybody’s birthday.
He knew all about wine, which fork to eat with.
He could fix anything. Not like me.
I change a fuse, and I black out the whole neighborhood.”
“No wonder you remember him.”
“Well, I never actually met Dave.”
“Then how do you know so much about him?” asks Morris.
“Because I married his widow.”