|
Post by bertie on Nov 29, 2005 8:20:33 GMT
An elderly Irishman lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite cheese scones 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 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 here, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were dozens of his favourite cheese scones.
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 lips parted, he could almost taste the cheese scone before it was in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to the nearest scone at the edge of the table, when his hand was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his beloved wife.
F**k off !! " she said, "They're for the funeral !!"
|
|
|
Post by pjaye on Nov 29, 2005 20:36:34 GMT
Hehe pretty good But is that all you do at work Bertie? Think up jokes? cause if it is keep going hehe they make me laugh
|
|
|
Post by bruceg on Nov 30, 2005 2:36:36 GMT
That joke may be as old as him but I'm pretty sure Albert didn't make it up ;D
|
|
|
Post by bertie on Nov 30, 2005 6:35:05 GMT
Cheers Bruce, but you're not far behind you know
|
|
|
Post by bruceg on Nov 30, 2005 9:32:55 GMT
But never quite gonna catch up... ;D
|
|