A woman goes to the local psychic in hopes of contacting her dearly departed grandmother.
The eyelids of the psychic begin fluttering, her hands float up above the table, and she begins moaning.
Eventually, a coherent voice comes out saying, “Granddaughter? Are you there?”
The woman, wide-eyed and on the edge of her seat, responds, “Grandma? Is that you?”
“Yes, granddaughter, it’s me.”
“It’s really, really you, grandma?” the woman repeats.
“Yes, it’s really me.”
The woman looking puzzled asks, “You’re sure it’s you, grandma?”
“Yes, granddaughter, I’m sure it’s me.”
The woman pauses a moment, “Grandma, I have just one question for you.”
“Anything, my child.”
“Grandma, when did you learn to speak English?”