Quatre. jours. de. plus.
Voici une tite farce j'ai trouvé en "faisant des recherches" en ligne :
"An elderly Cajun man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite beignets wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, 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 favorite beignets.
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 a crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the beignets was already in his mouth. With a trembling hand he reached up to the edge of the table, when suddenly he was smacked with a wooden spoon by his wife.
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 a crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the beignets was already in his mouth. With a trembling hand he reached up to the edge of the table, when suddenly he was smacked with a wooden spoon by his wife.
'Stop,' she said. 'Those are for the funeral.'"
Je peux pas vous dire combien de temps ma mère nous a frappé avec une cuillère en bois en disant la même affaire.
Et pour le record...équand j'aurai fini avec mes examens finaux..je vas bake. Et bake. Et pis bake de plus. Et pis prendre des portraits et les poster sur ce blog.
