Harry constantly irritated his friends with his eternal optimism.
No matter how bad the situation, he would always say, "Well, it could have
To cure him of his annoying habit, his friends decided to invent a
situation so completely black, so dreadful, that even Harry could find no
hope in it. Approaching him at the club bar one day, one of them said,
"Harry! Did you hear what happened to George? He came home last night,
found his wife in bed with another man, shot them both, and then turned
the gun on himself!"
"Terrible," said Harry. "But it could have been worse."
"How in hell," demanded his dumfounded friend, "could it possibly
have been worse?"
"Well," said Harry, "if it had happened the night before, I'd be
dead right now."
Yeah, that's me, Tracer Bullet. I've got eight slugs in me. One's lead,
the rest bourbon. The drink packs a wallop, and I pack a revolver. I'm
a private eye.