Post by B8 on Jul 3, 2007 20:49:29 GMT -5
An elderly Polish man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies
of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite pierogi
with fried onions wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the
bed. Gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.
Downstairs, he leaned against the door frame, 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
hundreds of his favorite pierogi.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his wife of sixty
years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
He threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled
posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the piero gi
was already in his mouth.
With a trembling hand he reached up to the edge of the table, when
suddenly he was smacked with a wooden spoon by his wife.
"Back off!" she said. "Those are for the funeral."
of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite pierogi
with fried onions wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the
bed. Gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.
Downstairs, he leaned against the door frame, 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
hundreds of his favorite pierogi.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his wife of sixty
years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
He threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled
posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the piero gi
was already in his mouth.
With a trembling hand he reached up to the edge of the table, when
suddenly he was smacked with a wooden spoon by his wife.
"Back off!" she said. "Those are for the funeral."