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. "My darling Becky," he whispered.
"Hush, my love," she said. "Rest. Shhh, don't talk."
In his tired voice, "I have something I must confess to you.
"There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Becky.
"Everything's all right, just go to sleep."
"No, no. I must die in peace, Becky. I...I cheated on you!"
"I know," Becky whispered as she softly stroked his forehead.
"Just let the poison work".
I can't flippin' believe it. I can't stand to see that vile and despicable thief, Kofi Annan, walking around the ruins as if he were so important.