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Brenda O'Malley is home as usual, making dinner, when Tim Finnegan
arrives
at her door.
"Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell
ya."
"Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim. But
where's
my husband?"
"That's what I'm here to be tellin' ya, Brenda. There was an
accident
down at the brewery..."
"Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me..."
"I must, Brenda. Your husband is dead and gone. I'm sorry."
Brenda reached a hand out to her side, found the arm of the
rocking
chair by the fireplace, pulled the chair to her and collapsed into
it. She
wept for many minutes.
Finally she looked up at Tim.
"How did it happen, Tim?"
"It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Stout and
drowned."
"Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at
least
go quickly?"
"Well, no Brenda......no."
"No?"
"Fact is, he got out three times to pee."



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