Cold Comfort

Poor Uncle Joe was dying.  No doubt about it.  He’d been in bed for days, getting weaker and weaker.  Family “sat” with him around the clock.  Cousin Frank who’d been sitting for hours, finally just had to slip out to the bathroom.  Uncle Joe opened his eyes for the first time in days.  He smelled apple pie.  He was hungry!!  He just had to have some pie.

“Sally.  Sally”  No answer.  That pie was calling him.  With his last strength, he slid out of bed, so weak he melted to the floor.  Creeping on hands and knees, he finally made it down the long hall to the kitchen.  As he pulled up to the table and reached for the pie, Aunt Sally turned and smacked his hand, “Leave that alone, you old goat!  That’s for the funeral!”

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