An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly
smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip 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 forced himself down the stairs, gripping the
railing with both hands. With labored 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: there, spread out upon newspapers on the kitchen table were
literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies.
Was it heaven? Or, was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted
wife, 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 rumpled posture. His parched lips parted;
the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth; seemingly
bringing him back to life.
The aged and withered hand, shakingly made its way to a cookie at the
edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his
wife.
"Stay out of those!" she said, "They're for the funeral."
The old bachelor farmer decided to finally tie the knot and get married. After the ceremony, they were loading the buckboard to drive home and their old mule kicked a couple of times knocking the wagon. The old farmer said, "That's one."
As they were driving down the lane, a rabbit jumped out in front of the mule and he skirmished a little as the old farmer said, "That's two."
Continuing toward home, the old mule saw some refreshing grass and decided to stop and graze. The old farmer said, "That's three," and got out and shot the mule dead where it stood.
The wife, not quiet knowing what to make of the situation, stood up on the buckboard and said, "Now, Hiram. That's no way to treat a defenseless mule."
The old farmer looked up from the mule, looked at his wife, and said, "That's one."