There was an elderly man at home, upstairs, dying in bed.
He smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies
baking. He wanted one last cookie before he died. He fell
out of bed, crawled to the landing, rolled down the stairs
and crawled into the kitchen where his wife was busily
baking cookies.
With his last remaining strength he crawled to the table
and was just barely able to lift his withered arm to the
cookie sheet. As he grasped a warm, moist chocolate chip
cookie, his favorite kind, his wife suddenly whacked his
hand with a spatula.
Gasping for breath, he asked her, "Why did you do that?"
"Those are for the funeral."
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