OUTLAWS high ping camper
03-29-2006, 06:21 AM
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 doorframe,
gazing into the kitchen.
Where if 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 the 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.....
"Back off!" she said, "They're for the funeral."
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 doorframe,
gazing into the kitchen.
Where if 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 the 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.....
"Back off!" she said, "They're for the funeral."