Cheese Scones



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An elderly Irishman lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies 
of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite 
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 his 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 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.

"Fuck off!!" she said, "they're for the funeral!!" 


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[Contributed by Peter]

Eat well, stay fit, die anyway.