The elderly couple had just celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary. Childhood sweethearts, they had grown up together, grown old together, and now—after retirement—had moved back to the neighborhood where it all began.
Hand in hand, they took a slow walk down memory lane, eventually stopping at their old school. The door, surprisingly, wasn’t locked. Inside, time seemed frozen. Dusty hallways. Faded chalkboards.
They found their old classroom.
And there it was—the desk they once shared. Jerry smiled and gently traced the faded carving he had made decades earlier:
I love you, Sally.
Later, as they walked home, something unexpected happened. A bag tumbled from the back of a passing armored truck and landed right at their feet with a dull thud.
Sally picked it up. It was heavy.
Very heavy.
At home, curiosity got the better of her. She opened the bag and gasped.
“Jerry,” she whispered. “There’s fifty thousand dollars in here.”
Jerry didn’t hesitate. “We have to return it.”
Sally shook her head. “Finders keepers.”
Before he could protest further, she closed the bag and hid it in the attic.
The next day, two police officers knocked on their door.
“Excuse us,” one said politely. “Did either of you happen to find a bag that fell off an armored car yesterday?”
Sally smiled sweetly. “No, officer.”
Jerry frowned. “She’s lying. She put it in the attic.”
Sally turned sharply. “Don’t listen to him,” she said. “He’s getting senile.”
The officers exchanged a look, then turned back to Jerry.
“Sir,” one of them said, “can you tell us what happened from the beginning?”
Jerry nodded. “Well, yesterday, when Sally and I were walking home from school…”
The officer immediately turned to his partner and said,
“Yeah… we’re done here.”
Fifty Years of Marriage
An elderly couple sat quietly on their porch, rocking gently in their chairs as the sun dipped lower in the sky. They had just celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
The husband read his newspaper.
The wife worked on her knitting.
Without warning, the wife suddenly leaned over and smacked her husband squarely on the head.
Then she calmly returned to her knitting.
The husband lowered his paper slowly, blinking in confusion.
“What was that for?” he asked.
She replied without looking up, “That was for fifty years of bad s**.”
The husband nodded thoughtfully, folded his newspaper, and resumed reading.
A few minutes passed.
Then whack.
He smacked her right back.
She looked at him, shocked. “What was THAT for?!”
Without lifting his eyes from the page, he answered,
“That’s for knowing the difference.”