A wizened and extremely unattractive old crone was sidling her way across the Mississippi Bridge near the University of Minnesota. Suddenly, she noticed a youngish man standing on the railing getting ready to jump!
“Hold it there, sonny, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I have lost everything,” he said tearfully. “My wife left me; she took the kids; I’ve been let go from my job; my house has been foreclosed on and my car repo’ed.”
“My, my,” said the crone, sympathetically, “That IS a heap o’ bad luck. But I am a witch and I can get all those things back for you.”
“Seriously? What’s the catch?” he asked. “I have no money.”
“Well, hon, to tell you the truth, it’s been a long time since a man has made love to me. I would like us to go to my apartment, have a night of mad passion, and in the morning, I will wave my magic wand and all those goodies will be returned to you.”
He thinks it’s worth a try and probably better than suicide. They go to her modest apartment and it turns out she is an energetic old babe. It’s this way, that way, this way, that way all night long. The man falls asleep, exhausted. He wakes up the next morning, thinking it must have been a bad dream, but ARRRGH! There she is and she wants to go again.
“Now wait a minute, fair is fair,” he complains. “You said ONE night and in the morning, you would do that magic wand thing.”
“You’re right, I did say that. But just let me ask one question: how old are you, sonny?”
“I just turned 42.”
“And you STILL believe in witches, huh?”