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."