Two days before last Thanksgiving, I was shopping for a couple of last-minute items at my neighborhood Harris Teeter and couldn't find the fresh cranberries anywhere. It was crowded, and I was harried. I spotted a young man stocking vegetables and practically elbowed my way to him.

"Can you tell me where the fresh cranberries are?" I asked plaintively. I'm sure my exasperation showed.

"Fresh cranberries?" he asked, turning to pick up a bag of them, right at his elbow. "How fresh do you want 'em?"

"How much fresher than that can they be?" I answered impatiently.

He held onto the bag, and as I stared, he wiggled it as if it were talking. "What's a sexy young thing like you doing in a place like this?" the bag of cranberries asked me.

Then the guy laughed in a way that made everybody who had heard him laugh right along, including me.

"That's pretty fresh!" was all I could think of to say.

I'd stepped right into the oldest joke in the book, and it made my day.

Kathy Allison,Arlington

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