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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
  An elderly Irishman lay dying in his bed. While suffering the

agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his

favorite cheese scones wafting up the stairs.

  He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed.

Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom,

and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands,

he crawled downstairs. With laboured breath, he leaned against the

door  frame, gazing  into the kitchen.

Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought

himself already  in  heaven, for here, spread out upon waxed paper on the
kitchen

table  were dozens of his favourite cheese scones.

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from devoted Irish
wife of sixty years,

seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table,

landing on his knees in a rumpled posture.

His parched lips parted,he could almost taste the cheese scone before it
was in his mouth,

seemingly bringing him back to life.

The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to the nearest scone

at the edge of the table, when his hand was suddenly smacked

with a spatula by his wife...



  "F--k off! "she said,



  "they're for the funeral!"

 
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