The end

Moishe had just had a up. “I hate to be the one to break it to you,” said the doctor, “but you’ve only got about 6 months to live.”

“Oh my God” gasped Moishe, turning white.
A few minutes later, after the news had sunk in, Moishe said, “Doctor, you’ve known me a long time. Do you have any suggestions as to how I could make the most of my remaining months?”

“Have you ever married?” asked the doctor.
Moishe replied that he had been a his .

“You might think about taking a wife,” said the doctor, “after all, you’ll need someone to look after you during the final illness.”

“That’s a good point,” said Moishe, “and with only 6 months to live I better make the most of my remaining time.”

“May I make one more ?” asked the doctor, “marry a .”

“A ? Why?” asked Moishe.

“It’ll seem longer.”

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