An elderly man lay dying on his bed. While suffering the
agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of 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, gripping the railing with both
hands, he crawled downstairs.
With labored breath, he leaned against the doorframe,
gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought
himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon the waxed paper of the kitchen
table, were dozens of his cookies.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love
from his devoted wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a
happy man?
Mustering one great effort, he threw himself towards the
table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted. He
could almost taste the warm deliciousness before it was in his mouth, seemingly
bringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to
the nearest cookie at the edge of the table, when his wife suddenly smacked his
hand with a spatula...
"Buzz
off" she said, "They're for the funeral."
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