"Help you, sir?" the tall, ruddy faced proprietor asked.
"Need a dozen eggs .How much for these?"
"Those are a dollar and eighty cents. But our Opening Day Special is a dozen free eggs if you'll promise to let me have your soul when you die."
"Hah, hah," laughed Hershfield. "I'll take 'em," he added, playing along with the joke. "Gotta warn you, though. My doctor says I'm healthier than a horse and will probably live forever!"
The proprietor handed Hershfield the carton of eggs, which promptly vanished in a puff of smoke as Hershfield dropped dead on the immaculate floor. Smiling, the proprietor stooped, thrust his hand into the other's chest and drew forth a small dark fluttering object. "Not even horses life forever," he said with an amused smile, then went quickly into a back room to process his newly acquired treasure.