Ice Cream Fixes Everything
I sit on a park bench, listening to an elderly man explain that his tinnitus is caused by a brain tumor. When he stops talking, I ask him what his tumor says when it talks to him, but he doesn't answer. (Maybe he can't hear me over the tumor.)
In the parking lot, an ice cream truck pulls up. I excuse myself to go buy two vanilla cones. Then I come back and offer him one. He refuses. I insist, pointing out that he's eating for two. He laughs, takes the cone and says, "you kill me."