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Dying

Jake was dying. His

wife, Becky, was maintaining a candlelight vigil by his side. She held his

fragile hand, tears running down her face.

Her praying roused him from his slumber He looked up and his pale lips began to

move slightly. " Becky my darling, " he whispered.

" Hush my love, " she said. " Rest, don't talk. "

He was insistent. " Becky, " he said in his tired voice, " I have

something that I must confess. "

" There's nothing to confess, " replied the weeping Becky,

" everything's all right, go to sleep. "

" No, no.. I must die in peace, Becky. I ... I slept with your sister, your

best friend, her best friend and your mother! "

" I know, my sweet one " whispered Becky, " lie still and let the

poison work. "

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