There lived a miser: not so nasty, not so good.
He had an about-to-break-anytime rocking chair at home. Having crossed more than 60 years of age its squeaks had become a daily headache for his wife. “It’s my father’s last memory. I can’t repair it any form, he’ll be hurt.”
Then there was the poison bottle post expiry date in house. His wife couldn’t bear this silliness.
“I have paid Rs.15 for it 12 years ago. At least I have to recover the full price!”
“I’ll get the price recovered for you- too many rats in the house!” The miser was happy.
That night she emptied the entire poison bottle in the cookie dough.
“This tastes awesome. New recipe?”
“Yes” she said.
The miser lived long. He managed to recover the full price.
ISupportNAAM
He had an about-to-break-anytime rocking chair at home. Having crossed more than 60 years of age its squeaks had become a daily headache for his wife. “It’s my father’s last memory. I can’t repair it any form, he’ll be hurt.”
Then there was the poison bottle post expiry date in house. His wife couldn’t bear this silliness.
“I have paid Rs.15 for it 12 years ago. At least I have to recover the full price!”
“I’ll get the price recovered for you- too many rats in the house!” The miser was happy.
That night she emptied the entire poison bottle in the cookie dough.
“This tastes awesome. New recipe?”
“Yes” she said.
The miser lived long. He managed to recover the full price.
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