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Toonraider
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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 railingwith both hands, he crawled

>downstairs.

>

>With laboured breath, he leaned against the doorframe, 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 . . . . . . .

>

> "Fuck Off!! ",she said, "They're for the funeral"

 

 

Come on!! Its not bad!! :lol:

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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 railingwith both hands, he crawled

>downstairs.

>

>With laboured breath, he leaned against the doorframe, 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 . . . . . . .

>

>  "Fuck Off!! ",she said, "They're for the funeral"

 

 

Come on!! Its not bad!!  :mellow:

81574[/snapback]

:huh::lol:

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