Not so good, she wouldn’t give me the money.
That’s bad.
Not so bad, she built a house.
That’s good.
Not so good, the house burn down.
That’s bad.
Not so bad, my wife burn up in house.
Mark Twain, in his lecturing days, reached a small Eastern town one afternoon and went before dinner to a barber’s to be shaved.
You are a stranger in the town, sir? the barber asked.