An elderly Ukrainian man lay dying in his bed.
While suffering the agonies of impending death, he
suddenly smelled the aroma of his
favourite Ukrainian perogies with fried onions
wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted
himself from the bed. Gripping the railing with
both hands, and overcome by pain, he crawled slowly
down the stairs.
Downstairs, 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 hundreds of his favourite
perogies.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love
from his wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he
left this world a happy man?
He threw himself towards the table, landing on
his knees in crumpled posture. His parched lips
parted, the wondrous taste of the perogies was
already in his mouth.
With a trembling hand he reached for a perogie
at the edge of the table, when suddenly he was
smacked with a wooden spoon by his wife.
"Fuck off." she said. "They're for the
funeral."
While suffering the agonies of impending death, he
suddenly smelled the aroma of his
favourite Ukrainian perogies with fried onions
wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted
himself from the bed. Gripping the railing with
both hands, and overcome by pain, he crawled slowly
down the stairs.
Downstairs, 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 hundreds of his favourite
perogies.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love
from his wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he
left this world a happy man?
He threw himself towards the table, landing on
his knees in crumpled posture. His parched lips
parted, the wondrous taste of the perogies was
already in his mouth.
With a trembling hand he reached for a perogie
at the edge of the table, when suddenly he was
smacked with a wooden spoon by his wife.
"Fuck off." she said. "They're for the
funeral."
