At the Last Minute
By An elderly man by the name of Mr. MacIntosh was laying on his deathbed, with his son at his bedside.
The old man said suddenly, “It’s time! Send for the Minister.”
The dying man said, “The Minister! Dad, I think you mean the priest. We are devout Catholics.”
“Get the Minister! Get the Minister!” the dying man repeated agitatedly.
“Dad, your illness must be affecting your mind,” the son replied, patting his father on the shoulder. “I will call the priest.”
The old man insisted, “If you have ANY love for your father, you will do as I have asked.”
So, reluctantly, the son did his father’s bidding, and soon thereafter, the Minister arrived and converted the old man to the Protestant faith. Moments later, the parish priest knocked on the door.
The son said, “Father, I am afraid you are too late. The Minister has already been here.”
The priest rushed over to the old man’s beside and he asked in dismay, “HOW could you do it? WHY did you do it?”
The old man looked up and replied, “Well, Father, I figured that if someone had to die, better one of them than one of us.”
