This is one of my favorite stories, told as best I can recall it. I’m sorry I don’t know to whom it should be attributed.
A man had been shipwrecked on a deserted island for several years when a rescue party finally arrived. Obviously, they’d be taking him back to civilization with them, but the leader of the rescue party asked if the castaway wouldn’t mind showing them around a bit before they left. After all, they were fascinated that he had survived so well and were curious as to how he had done it.
The man led them from the beach back up into the trees, where they came upon three primitive huts. “Please tell us about these huts,” the rescuer inquired. “What’s the first one here?”
“Well, this one is where I live,” replied the castaway.
“And the one over there?”, asked the rescuer, gesturing to the next in line.
“That’s where I go to church.”
“And what about the third building over there?”
“Oh, that’s where I used to go to church.”
