An elderly Ukrainian man was lying dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite Ukrainian dish, varenikis, 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 laboured breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen.

Where if 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 varenikis.

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Ukrainian 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 a crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the varenikis was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to the varenikis at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a wooden spoon by his wife......

"Back off!" she said, "They're for the funeral."

I've heard the same one only with an Irishman + cookies. Funny joke still!

+1

Funeral of that whole country right Ed?