07/20/2026 from Daily Jokes
#22437
Arthur and Martha, a sprightly 85-year-old couple married for sixty wonderful years, arrived at the Pearly Gates after a sudden, painless car crash. For the past decade, Martha had been an absolute tyrant about their health, enforcing strict kale smoothies, daily power walks, and organic everything, which had kept them both in remarkably good shape right up to the end.
St. Peter greeted them with a warm, welcoming smile and led them to their new eternal residence: a breathtaking, sprawling mansion complete with a luxurious master suite, a bubbling Jacuzzi, a gourmet kitchen, and a regulation billiards room. Arthur, ever the pragmatist, adjusted his glasses and asked, “How much will all this cost us?”
St. Peter chuckled softly. “Nothing, Arthur. This is Heaven. Everything is free.”
Next, St. Peter escorted them to a pristine, championship-level golf course just steps from their mansion. They were granted lifetime golfing privileges, an angelic caddy on demand, and a course that magically transformed daily to replicate the most elite, beautiful greens on Earth. “This is… absolutely stupendous,” Martha gasped. “But what are the green fees?”
Again, St. Peter smiled patiently. “Nothing. This is Heaven. Everything is taken care of.”
Finally, he guided them to a five-star celestial restaurant overlooking the fairways. The endless buffet featured premium Wagyu beef, juicy prime rib, buttery lobster, tender veal, wild salmon, and rare, decadent spices. “And how much—” Martha began.
“Again, completely free,” St. Peter interrupted gently. “This is Heaven.”
Arthur paused, his brow furrowing with decades of ingrained, earthly habit. “Well… this is all very nice, but… do you happen to have any low- cholesterol, low-fat options?”
St. Peter laughed heartily, clapping the old man on the shoulder. “My friend, in Heaven, you don’t have to worry about earthly problems anymore. You will never get fat, and you will never get sick. Eat whatever your heart desires!”
Suddenly, Arthur’s face turned crimson. He spun around, pointed a trembling finger at his bewildered wife, and screamed toward the heavens. Martha and St. Peter both tried to calm him down, but his indignation only grew.
“What’s the matter?!” Martha cried, utterly confused. “Why aren’t you happy here?!”
Arthur glared at her, his voice shaking with sixty years of suppressed dietary resentment, and roared:
“This is all YOUR fault!!! If it weren’t for your freaking ‘bran muffins’ and ‘paleo chicken’ recipes, we would have been here ten years ago!!!”
