Martha at her favorite tavern

Ethel was eager to get finished with the dishes so she could go motorcycling. Her daughter, Lisa, was drying.

“Mom,” said Lisa, “How did you get those white hairs when the rest of your hair is brown?”

Ethel needed every advantage dealing with her little imp, so she answered, “Every time you do something wrong, one of my hairs turns white.”

Lisa was quiet for a little while. Then she piped up, “Mom, how come all Grandma’s hairs are white?”

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