A father was comforting his terminally ill son...

He was diagnosed with leukemia, and there's nothing that the doctors can do, so the father was at home with him, doing whatever he can for him. He gets up from his couch in the living room, goes up the stairs, down the hall, and he walks into his son's room.


"Is there anything you want, son?" The father asks the boy, "Anything at all?"


The boy thinks for a moment and asks his father, "Dad, could you pretty please get me nine pink ping pong balls?"


The father is confused for a moment. *Why pink ping pong balls?* He thought, *And why nine of them?* But he wouldn't dare upset his dying son, so he walks out of his son's room, down the hall, down the stairs, through the living room, out the door, down the street, and into the local pawn shop.


"Excuse me," he says to the man behind the counter, "Can I have nine pink ping pong balls?"


"We only sell packages of ten," the man replies, "but I can take a ping pong ball out of the ten pack. Is that okay?"


"Yes," the father answers, "That would be great."


So the man goes into the back, takes out a ten pack of pink ping pong balls, removes one pink ping pong ball from the box, and he hands it to the father. The father walks out of the pawn shop, down the street, into his house, through the living room, up the stairs, down the hall, and into his son's room.


"Wow!" says the son, "Thank you so much, dad!"


"Now is there anything else you want?" The father asks, "A puppy, a video game, a car? Money is no object."


The son looks to his dad and asks, "Dad... can I have ninety-nine pink ping pong balls?"


The father is confused for a moment. *Why pink ping pong balls?* He thought, *And why ninety-nine of them?* But he wouldn't dare upset his dying son, so he walks out of his son's room, down the hall, down the stairs, through the living room, out the door, down the street, and into the local pawn shop.


"Excuse me," he says to the man behind the counter, "Can I have ninety nine pink ping pong balls?"


"We only sell packages of ten," the man replies, "but I can take a ping pong ball out of the ten pack. Is that okay?"


"Yes," the father answers, "That would be great."


So the man goes into the back, takes out ten ten packs of pink ping pong balls, removes one pink ping pong ball from the box, and he hands the boxes to the father. The father walks out of the pawn shop, down the street, into his house, through the living room, up the stairs, down the hall, and into his son's room. He hands the son the pink ping pong balls.


"Wow!" says the son, "Thank you so much, dad!"


"Now is there anything else you want?" The father asks, "A hooker, drugs, a gun? The law is no object."


The son looks to his dad and asks, "Dad... can I have nine hundred and ninety-nine pink ping pong balls?" The father is confused for a moment. *Why pink ping pong balls?* He thought, *And why nine hundred and ninety-nine of them?* But he wouldn't dare upset his dying son, so he walks out of his son's room, down the hall, down the stairs, through the living room, out the door, down the street, and into the local pawn shop.


"Excuse me," he says to the man behind the counter, "Can I have nine hundred and ninety-nine pink ping pong balls?"


"We only sell packages of ten," the man replies, "but I can take a ping pong ball out of the ten pack. Is that okay?"


"Yes," the father answers, "That would be great."


So the man goes into the back, takes out a hundred ten packs of pink ping pong balls, removes one pink ping pong ball from the box, and he hands them to the father. The father walks out of the pawn shop, down the street, into his house, through the living room, up the stairs, down the hall, and into his son's room.


"Wow!" says the son, "Thank you so much, dad!"


"Now is there anything else you want?" The father asks, "I could kill someone for you, or hire a clown, or invite Steven Tyler over. ANYTHING!"


The son looks to his dad and asks, "Dad... can I have nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine pink ping pong balls?"


The father is confused for a moment. *Why pink ping pong balls?* He thought, *And why nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine of them?* But he wouldn't dare upset his dying son, so he walks out of his son's room, down the hall, down the stairs, through the living room, out the door, down the street, and into the local pawn shop.


"Excuse me," he says to the man behind the counter, "Can I have nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine pink ping pong balls?"


"You have to go to the pink ping pong ball factory," the man replies, "but I can give you the directions. Is that okay?"


"Yes," the father answers, "That would be great."


So the man goes into the back, takes out his pen, writes down the directions, and he hands them to the father. The father walks out of the pawn shop, down the street, and to his car. He drives the car out of the city, and to the pink ping pong ball factory.


"Excuse me," the father says to the manager, "Can I please have nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine pink ping pong balls?"


"It takes a day to produce a million," the manager says, "but I can take one off of the line for you. Is that okay?"


"Yes," The father responds, "that's fine."


So the factory produces a million pink ping pong balls, the manager takes the last, and he loads nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine pink ping pong balls into a delivery truck.


When the delivery truck gets to the father's house with the nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine pink ping pong balls, it unloads them onto street, and a crane lifts them into the son's window.


Then the father drives into the city, past the pawn shop, down the street, gets out of his car, walks into his house, through the living room, up the stairs, down the hall, and into his son's room, but the simple act of reading this joke took so long, that by the time you've reached this point, the son is already dead.


My friend Luke wants credit for the joke, but he's not a redditor.