The Café

A woman sits in a chic cafe somewhere in western Europe. A waiter walks up to the table and places an espresso in front of her.

Madame: Excuse me.

Waiter: Yes, madame?

Madame: Could you please ask that man over there to stop living?

Waiter: Certainly, madame.

Madame: Grazie.

Waiter: I’m sorry madame, but the man refuses your request.

Madame: Oh, how drôle.

Waiter: Quite drôle, madame.

Madame: Well, if that man refuses my request, then may I ask of you another request?

Waiter: Of course, madame.

Madame: Take this pistol and make it so that that man stops living.

Waiter: Of course, madame.

Madame: Merci.

Waiter: Madame?

Madame: Yes?

Waiter: I followed your request, but so it seems . . . that man is not alive.

Madame: Oh?

Waiter: Yes. In all truth, death is sitting at that table.

Madame: Oh? Well then, send him my regards.

Waiter: Madame?

Madame: Yes?

Waiter: He wishes for you to join him.

END