An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite Italian anisette sprinkle 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 door frame looking into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven. Spread out on waxed paper on the table before him were literally hundreds of his favorite anisette sprinkled cookies. Was it heaven or was it one final act of love from his Italian wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled posture. His parched lips parted the wonderous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of the table when it was suddenly smacked by a spatula held by his wife ...
"Leave those alone," she said, "They're for the funeral."
An end with horror is better than horror without end.
