“Booker—I want you to make darn sure the President gets his cup of coffee in the morning!” Cornel Weathers shouted.

“Yes, sir!”

“And make sure he gets a blood test too.”

“I’m on it!”

“Vick—how did you get the Lazarus Vaccine?”

“In my living room, late at night—a hot nurse gave it to me.”

“That’s what we need.”

“What’s your blood type?” Vick asked.

“Type O.”

“Same here,” Gregson said.

“I’ll draw my blood, and give you both a transfusion.”

“It should give us some protection against death. We might be able to live thousands of years, if there isn’t a nuclear holocaust.”

“Won’t you get bored?” Vick asked.

“Are you kidding—I’ve only played 1% of the golf courses in the United States—and that’s not counting the world. You know—I just had an idea—Murphy is Type O. If I give him an injection, he’ll survive.”

“What are friends for?”

Friends keep each other alive,” Gregson said.

The End