Cookies

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."