Da king was OLD and he was on his royal death bed. Suddenly, a delicious smell wafted into the room ... a smell da king knew all too well. "Oh, my loving queen ... she knows I am dying and she's cooking my absolute favorite - fresh chocolate chip cookies!"
Shaking badly, he rolls out of bed and lands on the floor, dislocating his shoulder. With a grunt of pain, he pulls himself to the stairs and slides down them on his belly. He feels the strain in his muscles (you know, those six-pack ab muscles of his) and suffers excruciating pain from his muscles cramping up.
Weakly and slowly, he crawls toward the kitchen, but the smell of the cookies brings back long dormant memories flooding to his mind. "Oh, my loving wife, she's cooked me so many cookies!" Indeed, the countertops were covered with hundreds of chocolate chip cookies.
With a mixture of agony, nostalgia, and joy, his trembling hand stretches out ... tears streaming down his cheeks ... the king reaches up to grab a cookie from the counter.
Suddenly a wooden spoon smacks him sharply on the hand and the queen screeches, "ribit ... NO ... THOSE ARE FOR THE RECEPTION AFTER YOUR FUNERAL!!!"
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