They’ll Try to Slip Anything Past You

“This is a cozy little number. Two bedroom, two bath, nice location, convenient shopping nearby, haunted, large backyard,” the realtor coughed as she said ‘haunted.’

“What was that?” asked Mr. Hopewell.

“What was what?”

“That last thing you said.”

“Large backyard?”

“No before that.”

“Oh, that it’s haaaaaauuuu-ndreds of square feet?” the realtor said with an unconvincing smile.

“You said it was haunted didn’t you?” Mrs. Hopewell asked.

“Yes,” the realtor sighed, “yes, it is.”

Mr. Hopewell tapped his foot impatiently, “Who is it haunted by?”

The realtor looked away, “Axe-Murderin’ Max. . .”

“Now apologize to Mrs. Hopewell.”

“Sorry. . .”

“Now . . . how much?”

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