Paddy's Bread

 

Paddy's laying at home, dying in bed. He smells the aroma of
his favorite brown bread baking, and the odor of fresh cut smoked
salmon wafts into his room. He wants one last bite of them before
he dies.

He falls out of bed, crawls to the landing, rolls down the
stairs, and crawls into the kitchen where his wife is busily
preparing the brown bread and salmon.

With waning strength he crawls to the table and is just barely able to lift his withered arm to the plate.

As he grasps a small piece of the warm bread,
his wife suddenly whacks his hand with a spatula.


"Why?" he whispers. "Why did you do that?"
"They're for the funeral!", says she.

 

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