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Pretty Please - add it to our Events forum(s) and add to the calendar! >> 
An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies
of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite
Italian anisette sprinkle cookies wafting up the stairs 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 labored breath, 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
literally hundreds of his favorite anisette sprinkled cookies. Was it
heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Italian
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 crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the
wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly
bringing him back to life.
His aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of
the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife.....
"Back off!" she said, "They're for the funeral."
of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite
Italian anisette sprinkle cookies wafting up the stairs 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 labored breath, 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
literally hundreds of his favorite anisette sprinkled cookies. Was it
heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Italian
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 crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the
wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly
bringing him back to life.
His aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of
the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife.....
"Back off!" she said, "They're for the funeral."
