“Blimey!” replied my dark friend in broadest Yorshire, seemingly quite flustered by my announcement before she recovered her poise rapidly. “An... what does she look like, your leetle girlfriend? Ees she dark and pretty like you prefer?” She pouted slightly and I was amused to hear a slight edge of jealousy in her voice. I lifted the fingers of my right hand and counted off the points as I made them with my left. “One, she is not a girlfriend...just a friend of a friend. I am not into young. Wow! I’d die happy and with a big smile on my face. What a way to go.’ ‘You die like that and Saint Peter won’t allow you in Heaven,’ said Vito shaking his head and making the sign of the cross. ‘Won’t allow me in Heaven? Are you kidding me? Saint Peter is a man or once was a man, that is, before he became an Angel. He’d understand when he asked me the question how I died. I’d tell him that I died happy. I’d tell him that I died with a big smile of my face. I’d tell Saint Peter that I died. More

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