Joke no. 2

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. While

suffering

the agonies of impending death, he suddenly

smelled the aroma

of his favourite scones wafting up the

stairs.

He gathered his remaining strength, and

lifted himself

from the bed. Leaning on 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

there, spread out upon the kitchen table were

literally hundreds of his favourite scones.

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of

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

rumpled posture.

His aged and withered hand trembled towards a

scone at the

edge of the table, when it was suddenly

smacked by his wife

with a wooden spoon ......

.........

.........

Fuck off' she said, 'they're for the

funeral.'
Sent from my BlackBerry® Smartphone provided by Ufone