hehe

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 there, 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 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 . . . . . . . . .
>>
>>
>> “Bugger Off!! “she said, “They’re for the funeral”