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Good Old Dave
Morris walks out into the street and manages to get a taxi just going by. He gets into the taxi, and the cabbie 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."
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