"Smedley! Where the hell have you been? You've missed the past two days of work!"
"So sorry, Mr. Clearsdale. I was at my grandmother's funeral."
"You were at your grandmother's funeral last week, Smedley! You said she died of knee cancer!"
"Oh, she did, very painful, terrible way to go. This was my other grandmother, though. She died of...uh...blastofiliobrosiluciositis. Of the brain."
"That's funny, Smedley, because two weeks ago I recall you had to go your other grandmother's funeral. Three grandmothers, Smedley?"
"Not at all, Mr. Clearsdale. You see, two weeks ago my grandfather remarried, not knowing that his new bride had blastofiliobrosiluciositis of the spleen."
"I thought it was of the brain."
"You have no idea how fast blastofiliobrosiluciositis can spread, sir."
"Now see here, Smedley, this is the stupidest excuse for missing work that I've ever heard in my three quarters of a half century with this company."
"Trust me, sir, I've heard stupider."
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