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An elderly man lay dying in his bed. While suffering

the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma

of his favourite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs.

He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself

from the bed. Leaning on 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 laboured breath, he leaned against the

door-frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's

agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for

there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were

literally hundreds of his favourite chocolate chip cookies.

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his

devoted Aussie wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left

this world a happy man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself

towards the table, landing on his knees in rumpled posture.

His aged and withered hand trembled towards a cookie at the

edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife

with a spatula......

F**k off" she said, "they're for the funeral."

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