Subject: Between Heaven and Hell... A man and his dog were walking along the road. The man was enjoying the scenery when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and he knew the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them. After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl. The street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. The man and his dog walked toward the gate and as he got closer he saw a man at a desk off to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, sir, where are we?" "This is Heaven, sir," the man answered. "Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the traveler asked. "Of course, sir. Come right in and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The man at the desk gestured and the gate began to open. "Can my friend," nodding toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveler asked. "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets." The man thought for a moment, brushed his dusty brow and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog. After another long walk, at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree, reading a book. "Excuse me, sir," he called to the reader, "Do you have any water?" "Sure, there's a pump over there." The man pointed to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in." "How about my friend, here?" the traveler gestured toward his dog. "There should be a bowl by the pump," answerd the reader. They went through the gate and, sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the bowl and took a long drink, then he gave some to his dog. When their thirst was satisfied, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree waiting for them. "What do you call this place?" the traveler asked. "This is Heaven," was the answer. "Well, that's confusing," the traveler said, "The man down the road said that was Heaven, too." "Oh, you mean the place with the golden streets and the pearly gates? Nope. That's Hell." Confused, the traveler asked, "Doesn't it make you angry that they use your name that way?" "No, I can see how you might think so, but we're glad that they screen out the folks who'll enter but leave their best friends behind." Sometimes we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word. Maybe this would explain... When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do? You forward jokes. When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep in contact, you forward jokes. When you have something to say, but don't know what and don't know how, you forward jokes. And to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, guess what you get? A forwarded joke. So, my friend, next time you get a joke, don't think that you've been sent just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today and your friend at the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile.