Death Bed

Jake was on his deathbed while his wife, Becky, maintained a steady vigil by his side. As she held his fragile hand, her warm tears ran silently down her face, splashed onto his, and roused him from his slumber. He looked up and his pale lips began to quiver with sound.

“My darling Becky,” he whispered.

“Hush, my love,” she said. “Go back to sleep Shhh! Don’t talk.”

But he was insistent. “Becky,” he said in his tired voice. “I have to talk. I have something I must confess to you.”

“There’s nothing to confess,” replied the weeping Becky. “It’s all right. Everything’s all right, go to sleep now.”

“No, no. I must die in peace, Becky. I slept with your sister, your best friend and our next door neighbor.”

Becky mustered a pained smile and stroked his hand. “Hush now Jake, don’t torment yourself. I know all about it,” she said. “Why do you think I poisoned you?”