Cookies

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's final agony, as
he started to slip away, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his
favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs.
He 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 forced himself down the
stairs. Gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled
downstairs defying the pull of Morpheus.


With labored breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing in
the kitchen. Were it not for the immense pain caused by his
extreme exertions, he would have thought himself already in
heaven for there spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen
table - were hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies.


Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his
devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, with tears in his eyes, he
threw himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a
rumpled posture. His parched lips parted: the wondrous taste of
the sweet biscuit was already mentally in his mouth, seemingly
bringing him back to life. He felt renewed strength pulsate
through his body.


The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to one lone
biscuit at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked
with a spatula by his wife......


"Fuck off, " she said, "they're for the funeral."