I Love Jokes And Riddles
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.
He gathered his remaining strength, and 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 sprinkle 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 the table,
landing on his knees in a rumpled 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......
"Back off!" she said, "They're for the funeral."
agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of
his favorite Italian anisette sprinkle cookies wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength, and 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 fr
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 sprinkle 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 the table,
landing on his knees in a rumpled 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......
"Back off!" she said, "They're for the funeral."
By:
An EP User
