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.’Show Top Comments
Attack of the Scones.JoeMammy_1
Priorities are priorities – she’s got hers in place.Waitsfornoone
Best scone I ever ever had was at Stonehenge in the cafe.Funny_Drummer_9794
I laughed. Why does it menton he‘s Irish though? I kept waiting for that to be relevant.Bez_lim
First saw this as “chocolate-chip cookies”.
Everything old is new again.Engineer-Poet