bash213001
Inactive User
- Joined
- Mar 27, 2005
- Messages
- 368
- Reaction score
- 24
>>Chocolate Chip Cookies
>>
>>An elderly man lay dying in his bed.
>>
>>While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled
>>the aroma of his favourite chocolate chip 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 laboured breath, he leant 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 put upon waxed paper on the kitchen table
>>were literally hundreds of his favourite chocolate chip cookies.
>>
>>Was it heaven?
>>
>>Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Irish 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...... ................. .............
>>.............
>>............
>>............
>>............
>>
>>"F*ck off" she said, "they're for the funeral."
>>
>>An elderly man lay dying in his bed.
>>
>>While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled
>>the aroma of his favourite chocolate chip 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 laboured breath, he leant 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 put upon waxed paper on the kitchen table
>>were literally hundreds of his favourite chocolate chip cookies.
>>
>>Was it heaven?
>>
>>Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Irish 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...... ................. .............
>>.............
>>............
>>............
>>............
>>
>>"F*ck off" she said, "they're for the funeral."
