wm460
Grand Master
- Joined
- Mar 16, 2013
- Posts
- 23,095
- First Name
- Mark
SCOTTISH LOVE STORY
An elderly Scotsman lay dying in his bed.
While suffering agonies during his final moments, he suddenly smells the aroma of scones, his favourite treat, wafting up the stairs.
Gathering up his remaining strength, and lifting himself from the bed, he leans hard against the wall.
Slowly he makes his way out of the bedroom and with great effort toward the kitchen.
There, piled on a tray are his favourite scones.
Was he already in heaven or was it one final act of loveby his his devoted wife of sixty years, making sure he left this world a happy man?
Mustering the last of his strength, he throws himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled posture.
His aged and withered hand trembles toward a scone at the edge of the table, when it's suddenly smacked by his wife holding a large wooden spoon.
F..k off!!! she says,……………. they're for the funeral.
An elderly Scotsman lay dying in his bed.
While suffering agonies during his final moments, he suddenly smells the aroma of scones, his favourite treat, wafting up the stairs.
Gathering up his remaining strength, and lifting himself from the bed, he leans hard against the wall.
Slowly he makes his way out of the bedroom and with great effort toward the kitchen.
There, piled on a tray are his favourite scones.
Was he already in heaven or was it one final act of loveby his his devoted wife of sixty years, making sure he left this world a happy man?
Mustering the last of his strength, he throws himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled posture.
His aged and withered hand trembles toward a scone at the edge of the table, when it's suddenly smacked by his wife holding a large wooden spoon.
F..k off!!! she says,……………. they're for the funeral.
