Two old men, George and Harold, were enjoying their usual afternoon at the park bench,

arguing about which one of them had the better hearing aid. Suddenly

a young woman jogged past in a sports bra and tiny shorts, her ponytail bouncing with every stride.

Harold grinned wide, while George nearly choked on his iced tea.

The girl stopped dead in her tracks, hands on her hips, and marched straight over.

“Excuse me!” she snapped.

“Why are you staring at me and grinning like a creep?”

Harold blinked, taken aback, and George tried not to laugh so hard his dentures would fall out.

With a twinkle in his eye, Harold leaned forward and said sweetly, “My dear, I wasn’t smiling at you.

I was smiling because I just remembered where I left my teeth last night.”

The girl blinked, stunned, while George burst into wheezy laughter, clapping Harold on the back.

The jogger finally cracked a smile and shook her head.

“You old guys are something else,” she said, jogging away.

As she disappeared, Harold whispered, “Between you and me, George, I was absolutely smiling at her.”

George grinned back and muttered, “That’s okay, buddy — I can’t even see past my own knees.”