...and he was on his death bed. suddenly a delicious smell wafted into the room, a smell Jack knew all too well. "Oh, my loving wife, she knows I am dying and she's cooking my absolute favorite, fresh chocolate chip cookies!"
Shaking badly, he rolls out of bed and lands on the floor, dislocating his shoulder. With a grunt of pain, he pulls himself to the stairs and slides down them on his belly, he feels muscles being strained and cramping up and he's in excruciating pain.
Weakly, and slowly, he crawls toward the kitchen, the smell of the cookies bringing long dormant memories flooding his mind. "Oh, my loving wife, she's cooked me so many cookies!" Indeed, the countertops were covered in hundreds of chocolate chip cookies.
With a mixture of agony, nostalgia and joy, a trembling hand stretched out, tears streaming down his cheeks, Jack reaches up to grab a cookie from the counter.
Suddenly a wooden spoon smacks him sharply on the hand and his wife screeches "JACK! THOSE ARE FOR THE WAKE!!"
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