> The elderly man was at home, 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 waning 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.
> "Why?" he whispered. "Why did you do that?"
> "They're for the funeral" she replied.
>
>
