March 9, 2017

Day 9

Kathleen was standing vigil over her husband's death bed. As she held his hand, her warm tears ran silently down her face, splashed onto his face, and roused him from his slumber. He looked up and his pale lips began to move slightly.
"My darling Kathleen, " he whispered.
"Hush, my love," she said. "Go back to sleep. Shhh, don't talk." But he was insistent.
"Kathleen," 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 Kathleen. "It's all right. Everything's all right, go to sleep now."
"No, no. I must die in peace, Kathleen. I slept with your sister, your best friend, and your mother." Kathleen mustered a pained smile and stroked his hand.
"Hush now Patrick, don't torment yourself. I know all about it," she said. "Why do you think I poisoned you?"


Tim met the parish priest and said, "Father, wasn't it a lovely bazaar we had two weeks ago?"
"It was grand," said the priest.
Tim said, "Incidentally, those automobiles that we had for prizes, who won the Cadillac?"
And the priest said, "It so happens Father Duffy won the Cadillac. Wasn't he lucky?"
Tim said, "That he was. And the Oldsmobile we had there? Who won the Oldsmobile?"
The priest said, "Well, Monsignor Fogarty won the Oldsmobile. Wasn't he lucky?"
He said, "Yes, that he was. And the last car, the Plymouth, who won that?"
The priest said, "Well, Bishop Donahue won that. Wasn't he lucky?" Then the priest said, "By the way, Timothy, how many chances did you take?"
He said, "I didn't take any. Wasn't I lucky!"


When old Hennessy collapsed on the street, a crowd soon gathered and began making suggestions as to how the old fellow should be revived.

Maggie O'Reilly yelled, "Give the poor man some whiskey!"

No one paid any attention to her, and the crowd continued shouting out suggestions.  Finally, Hennessy opened one eye, pulled himself up on an elbow, and said weakly, 

"Will the lot o' ye hold yer tongues and let Maggie O'Reilly speak!"


Father Murphy met Casey in the street and Casey admired his new umbrella.

Father Murphy said, “Thank you, but I’m not sure I got it honestly.  It started to rain the other day, and I stepped into a doorway to wait until it stopped.  Then, I say a young fellow coming along with a nice, large umbrella, and I thought that if he was going as far as my house, I’d ask him to share it with me.  I stepped out from the doorway and said, ‘Where are you going with that umbrella?’  And he dropped the darned thing and ran off.”

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