The old man is dying.

He calls his son into his bedroom. “Sammy,” he says. “I can smell all the way up here that your mother is downstairs in the kitchen, baking rugelach. You know that your mother’s rugelach is my favorite thing in the world. I’m sure that this will be the last thing I’ll ever eat. Would you please go downstairs and get me some?”

Sammy leaves the room

Five minutes go by. Ten minutes.

Fifteen minutes later, Sammy returns to his father’s bedroom. Empty-handed.

“Sammy,” the old man says, where’s the rugelach?”

“Pop,” Sammy says sheepishly, “Mom says they’re for after the funeral.”

From Old Jews Telling Jokes, by Sam Hoffman with Eric Spiegelman; joke by Benjamin Dreyer.

 

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