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Eunice

“There’s this old radio joke,” says Ira. “The doctor goes ‘well, I’ve got your test results,’ and she goes ‘gosh, Doc, what is it?’ and he says ‘hypochondria!’ And there’s a beat, and she sounds hopeful and says ‘… is it contagious?'”

Eunice laughs. He’s got that perfect Richard Crenna delivery, quick and impatient, just waiting for the audience to quiet down enough to shove in the next joke.

“You still telegraph,” she says.

“You still like it,” he says.

“Cancer?”

He grins; this time his eyes are darker. “Nah,” he says, “something else, I wasn’t really listening when they told me.”

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