Leadfingers and Kendall sat back in their huge, leather armchairs, sipping on guiness. They had been talking banjos, in fact, as they sunk each new round of guinness, they plied each other with banjo jokes.

Leadfingers: The Pope and a banjo player find themselves together before the Pearly Gates. After a small quantum of time which was spent discussing their respective professions, Ol' Saint Peter shows up to usher them to their new Heavenly station. After passing out wings, harps, halos, and such, Saint Pete decides to show them to their new lodgings. Only a brief flight from the welcome, Pete brings them down on the front lawn (cloud-encrusted, natch) of a huge palatial estate with all sorts of lavish trappings. This, Pete announces, is where the banjo player will be spending eternity, (at least until the end of time…) "Hot Dang," the Pope says to His-Self, "If he's getting a place like this, I can hardly wait to see my digs!" They take flight once again, and as Pete leads on, the landscape below begins to appear more and more mundane until they finally land on a street lined with Brownstone houses. Pete indicates the third walkup on the left as the Pope's new domicile and turns to leave, wishing the Pontiff his best. The Pope, in a mild state of astonishment, cries out "Hey Pete! What's the deal here? You put that banjo player-feller in a beautiful estate home and I, spiritual leader of terra-firma, end up with this dive?"
Pete looks at the pontiff amusedly and replies: "Look here old fellow, this street is practically encrusted with spiritual leaders from many times and religions. We're putting you here with them so you guys can get your dogma together. That other guy gets an estate, because he's the first (non)damned banjo player to make it up here!!"


Kendall: For three years, the young banjo player had been taking his brief vacations at this country inn. The last time he'd finally managed an affair with the innkeeper's daughter. Looking forward to an exciting few days, he dragged his suitcase up the stairs of the inn, and stopped short. There sat his lover with an infant on her lap!
"Helen, why didn't you write when you learned you were pregnant?" he cried. "I would have rushed up here, we could have gotten married, and the baby would have my name!"

"Well," she said, "when my folks found out about my condition, we sat up all night talkin' and talkin' and decided it would be better to have a bastard in the family than a banjo player."

...and so on. It was a pleasant evening, the rain was falling quietly on the cobblestones outside, and both men were unwinding after a hard day's banjo playing.