My friends Jeyson has a funny way of telling stories. Not ha-ha funny, but peculiar funny.
He starts with a brilliant opening that draws you in:
“One time in college, me and Bill and Toby went hiking high in the mountains of Nepal.”
Then he builds it up:
“When we camped that night, we heard this deep, loud howling noise. When we woke up the next morning we found the strangest tracks.”
Now at this point, you think the story is just getting to the climax. But–Jeyson stops talking.
“So what happened?” you ask.
“What?” he says.
“What made the tracks? What was that howling?”
Now he delivers the denouement.
“Oh. The tracks were Toby’s.”
And that is when you realize that you will never find out what that howling was.
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