AN ITALIAN STORY
An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies
of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite
Italian anisette sprinkle cookies wafting up the stairs. Gathering his
remaining strength, he lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall,
he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort,
gripping the railing with both hands he crawled downstairs.
With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into
the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought
himself already in heaven. For there, spread out upon waxed paper on
the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite anisette sprinkled
cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his
devoted Italian wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world
a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards t he table,
landing on his knees in a crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the
wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing
him back to life. The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a
cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a
spatula by his wife.
"Get outta here! " she shouted , "They're for the funeral!"
of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite
Italian anisette sprinkle cookies wafting up the stairs. Gathering his
remaining strength, he lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall,
he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort,
gripping the railing with both hands he crawled downstairs.
With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into
the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought
himself already in heaven. For there, spread out upon waxed paper on
the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite anisette sprinkled
cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his
devoted Italian wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world
a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards t he table,
landing on his knees in a crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the
wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing
him back to life. The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a
cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a
spatula by his wife.
"Get outta here! " she shouted , "They're for the funeral!"
4 comments:
That sounds about right! Too funny!
Bwaaaaahahahahaha... another splash of diet coke thru my nostrils... those are getting a good cleaning lately...
Aw, that is sad.
But really hilarious!
Sounds like something my great-grandmother would have done - 'cept she is not italian. - very funny!
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