I SELL SMILES

VICKI, an unhappy rich woman, sits impatiently on a bus stop bench.
MIKE, a homeless man, sits down next to her with a big smile on his face.

VICKI: What are you smiling for?
MIKE: It's what I do.
VICKI: I won't ask.
MIKE: I sell smiles for a living.
VICKI: I'm not interested.
MIKE: Here, have a free one - on me (He smiles at her.)
VICKI: No thank you!
MIKE: Sorry, can't take it back. You'll have to give it to someone
else.
VICKI: What?
MIKE: The smile. You'll have to give it away if you don't want it. Or sell it if you like - apparently it hasn't been used much.

VICKI: What do you mean by that?
MIKE: You don't smile very often, do you?
VICKI: So what if I don't?
MIKE: Shouldn't waste your smile ... there's plenty of people who
could use one.
VICKI: Well, they can have mine.
MIKE: Your what?
VICKI: My smile.
MIKE: I don't see one.
VICKI: I thought you just gave me one.
MIKE: I tried, but it didn't stick. I think it bounced right off.
VICKI: Fine. What's there to smile about anyway?
MIKE: Well ...
VICKI: You don't have to answer that.
MIKE: There's lots of things to smile about. It's a beautiful day
outside; the buses are running on time ...
VICKI: I don't want to hear about it.
MIKE: ... and look at that flower over there, now that would make anybody smile ...
VICKI: Would you leave me alone!

(A long moment of silence. Finally, she gives in.)

VICKI: So what's the going rate on smiles these days?
MIKE: Pardon me?
VICKI: Your smiles ... how much are they?
MIKE: Oh, they're very expensive.
VICKI: So's my taste.
MIKE: You probably couldn't afford one.
VICKI: Try me.
MIKE: I'm warning ... it'll cost you.
VICKI: Yes, I know, HOW MUCH?
MIKE: One smile!
VICKI: One smile?
MIKE: That's how much they cost.
VICKI: What?
MIKE: The price for a smile is exactly one smile. That's the going rate. (She thinks about it)
VICKI: Alright. (smiles) I'll take one.
MIKE: It was a pleasure doing business with you. (He leaves)

(Daisy, a teacher, sits down next to Vicki.)

DAISY: What's with the smile?
VICKI: I sell smiles for a living!
AUTHOR UNKNOWN

This story is to remind us to always smile and be cheerful. It makes people happy and cures all kinds of sadness. You just cannot feel sad without your own permission!

It is not work that kills men; it is worry.

Worry is the rust upon the blade.

Henry Ward Beecher (1813-1887)