When grandpa died he was sitting at the table, having breakfast.
"Wait a minute . . . wait a minute," he said, putting his cup of tea down, "I think it's stopped."
"What's stopped?" Susan asked.
"Me heart, deary. I knew it was getting a bit rusty. Now it's finally given up."
"Hearts don't get rusty, grandpa!" laughed Susan. She went on with spreading too much marmalade on her toast.
"You old kidder!" smiled Mum, "Trying to scare us are you?"
"No, really" grandpa said, "I don't know why I'm still sitting here. I should be keeled over, with my head on the table." He looked awfully puzzled.
Dad was reading the newspaper. He always read it at breakfast. All I could see of his head was some thin hair and a few freckles.
"You're too young to die!" Dad said.
"Eighty three?" said grandpa, "You think that's young? Ha! I'd say I've had a good innings. Its probably time I went."
"Don't talk like that!" said Susan. She looked a bit frightened now.
"Grandpa's not going to die," I said, trying to assure her. She was, after all, my sister, and only five. It was amazing how gullible she was though. I remember telling her, once, that rain came from holes in the clouds when God watered his garden, and she actually believed me!
"More toast?" Mum asked.
"Yes please!" Susan said.
"No thanks dear," Dad said from behind his newspaper.
"Well well well," said grandpa with a sigh. "So this is what its like. I expected more of a fuss when I went, but you lot seem to be carrying on as if nothing's happened!"
"But you're joking aren't you?" I asked.
"Ha!" laughed grandpa, "Feel my pulse then. See if there's anything going in inside me!"