An elderly Scotsman 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 here, 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 
Kirkcaldy 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...
"F*** off" she said, "they're for the funeral!!"