You may need a tissue for this one. For your tears of laughter. 😀

A Dying Man

Angus lay dying in his bed. In death’s agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite scones wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed.

Leaning against the wall, he very slowly made his way out of the bedroom, down the hall, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands.

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: there, spread out upon waxed papers on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite scones.

Was it heaven?  Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great final effort, he heaved himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled posture.

His salivating lips parted; the wondrous taste of a scone seemed to be already in his mouth, almost bringing him back to life. His aged, withered hand made its way slowly, shaking, up to a scone near the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife. “Stay out of those!” she snapped.  “They’re for the funeral.”