My grandfather and I used to play this particular game every night at dinner. He knew I was repulsed by butter. So he would always offer it to me, and always slide it in front of my plate. This went on forever.
One day, when I had moved out on my own with Kevin, I was frying up some butter. I noticed that it started smoking as I obviously must have had the heat up so high. I remember thinking that this was a rare occurence as I usually pay good attention to it. Within an hour I got a phone call. Apparently my grandpa had gone to the hospital due to a minor heart attack. When everyone left his room, without saying a word, he left the earth...right when my butter would have went up in smoke.
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