Rivkah loves her chicken soup. She always makes a full saucepan's worth every week for herself and her husband Shlomo. She just never tires of having it. One night, while her Shlomo is out playing poker with his friends, she heats up a bowl of her chicken soup and starts to tuck into it, smiling with every spoonful. But then her front doorbell rings. It's Benjy and Jeremy, two of her husband's friends. She invites them in and then continues drinking her chicken soup.
"Oy vay, Rivkah," says Benjy, almost crying.
"So what's the matter?" asks Rivkah.
"We're so sorry to have to tell you this, Rivkah," replies Jeremy, "but Shlomo has just been knocked down by a car near my house. He was on his way home from our poker night."
"So is he badly hurt?" Rivkah asks, still drinking her chicken soup.
"I'm afraid it's bad news," replies Benjy. "Shlomo is... ... he's dead."
Rivah continues drinking her chicken soup.
"Rivkah," says Jeremy, "Do you hear what we're saying to you? Your Shlomo has been killed."
Rivkah continues spooning chicken soup into her mouth.
"I don't understand why you are taking our terrible news so calmly," says Benjy.
"Don't worry," says Rivkah. "As soon as I finish my bowl of chicken soup, are you going to hear a scream."
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