An elderly couple, Bert and Edna, are sitting on the porch swing!

Bert and Edna, who have been married for fifty-five years, are enjoying lukewarm tea and rocking gently on their porch swing on a calm Sunday evening while squirrels fight over a stray Cheeto and the sun sets.

The silence is abruptly broken by Edna. “Let’s talk about bucket lists, Bert.”

His eyebrows arch as he glances up. “Lists of buckets? Edna, I’m eighty-seven. Recalling where I put my jeans when I get up tomorrow is the last thing I want to do.

She laughs. “No, you’re stupid. I’m referring to a list of aspirations we’ve never had—things we wish to accomplish before departing.

He gives his chin a rub. “All right… Skydiving has always been a dream of mine.

Edna’s eyes enlarge. “You? You almost pass out while fastening your shoes!

He smiles. “I’ve always wanted to haunt the neighbor, so picture me landing in his garden.”

Edna concurs as they chuckle, saying, “All right. You go skydiving. I’ll complete mine.

Bert narrows his eyes. “And what do you have?”

That naughty gleam reappears. “Bert, do you recall your favorite recliner that for twenty years leaned oddly to the left?”

Still believing the dog was to blame, he nods.

Edna acknowledges, “I jammed a spatula under one leg in 1989 after you spilled grape soda on my new curtains.”

Bert lets out a gasp. “You are a monster!”

She smiles. Moreover, the remote control that demanded the Hallmark channel? I prodded the battery compartment with a coin.

Bert’s mouth falls open. “Why?”

Edna calmly takes a drink of her tea. “Because nothing says’revenge’ like five years of mistletoe films and slow-motion snowball fights.”

He smiles and leans back. “All right, time for confession. Do you recall my Saturday “fishing trips” from the previous ten years?

Edna’s eyebrows go up. “You don’t go fishing.”

“Exactly,” he adds, winking. “I was playing bowling.” Tucked down under the water heater in the basement, I took home four awards.

They both started laughing when they realized that she had thrown his “trophies” out the vehicle window during a fight in 1965.

A few weeks later, Bert eventually skydives and lands safely in the neighbor’s yard, where they both yell with delight after Edna fixes the damaged recliner.

They go to the bowling alley together every Saturday, not just to play the game but also to serve as a reminder that love and mischief go hand in hand.

The couple, who are now in their nineties, tragically perishes in a car accident after many years.

St. Peter greets them at the Pearly Gates with a tour of their paradise, which includes a championship golf course, a gourmet kitchen, a Jacuzzi, and a five-star banquet that is all complimentary.

“This is heaven—everything is on the house,” St. Peter chuckles as Bert eagerly inquires about the cost. Eat, drink, or play as you please.

Bert’s expression drops. “So, no options that are low in fat or cholesterol?”

St. Peter grinned. “No need. Here, you won’t become ill or put on weight.

Bert abruptly turns to Edna and gestures accusingly up into the sky. You are solely to blame for this! We would still be here if you hadn’t forced me to buy bran cereal and kale-chicken pancakes fifty years ago!

Edna merely laughs and shakes her head. “Oh, Bert, you are the most grumpy man I have ever loved, even in heaven.”

Then, ready to rock that pearly porch swing for eternity, they walk away hand in hand.