Message-ID: <16752660.1075842265078.JavaMail.evans@thyme> Date: Wed, 7 Mar 2001 08:54:00 -0800 (PST) From: nbutler@susmangodfrey.com To: dan.j.hyvl@enron.com Subject: FW: Fw: HER BALLONS Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-From: Noel Butler X-To: "'Dan.J.Hyvl@enron.com'" X-cc: X-bcc: X-Folder: \Dan_Hyvl_Dec2000_June2001\Notes Folders\Miscellaneous X-Origin: HYVL-D X-FileName: dhyvl.nsf -----Original Message----- From: Marc Torres Sent: Wednesday, March 07, 2001 4:50 PM To: Stan Moore (E-mail); Sean Green (E-mail); Terry (E-mail); Henry E. Gonzales; Noel Butler; Hector Torres (E-mail) Subject: FW: Fw: HER BALLONS A small boy walks into his mother's room and catches her topless. "Mummy, Mummy, what are those?" he says pointing to her breasts. "Well, son,"she says, These are balloons, and when you die, they inflate and float you up to heaven," Incredibly, he appears to believe this explanation and goes off quite satisfied. Two days later while his mother is making tea, he rushes into the kitchen. "Mummy, mummy, Aunt Eliza is dying!" "What do you mean?" says his mother."Well she's out in the garden shed, lying on the floor with both of her balloons out. Dad's trying to blow themup for her and she keeps yelling, "God, I'm coming! God, I'm coming!" - att1.htm