By Pamela Putz
Martha visited her dying husband in the hospital.
As she sat by him, he whispered, his eyes full of tears, "You know what? You have been with me all through the bad times.
When I got fired, you were there to support me.
When my business failed, you were there.
When I got shot, you were by my side.
When we lost the house, you stayed right here.
When my health started failing, you were still by my side...
You know what Martha?"
"What dear?" she gently asked, smiling as her heart began to fill with warmth.
"I'm beginning to think you're fucking bad luck."
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