Bob the mortician shuffled into the kitchen holding an ice pack to his face. His wife took one look at his black eye and burst out laughing. “Okay, I have to hear this story!”
Bob slumped into a chair. “Got called to the Grand Hotel today for a deceased guest. Should have been routine, but the manager said they were having… positioning difficulties.”
His wife smirked. “Let me guess – someone was happy to see you?”
“Exactly!” Bob exclaimed. “So I go up to the room, and there’s this fellow lying there at full attention. I figured I’d just… gently persuade things downward to get him in the bag.” He demonstrated with his hands.
His wife was now biting her lip to keep from laughing. “And?”
“And the very alive gentleman in the bed did not take kindly to a stranger manhandling his equipment!” Bob said indignantly. “Turns out I went to the wrong room! The actual deceased was next door, looking much more… relaxed.”
His wife lost it completely at this point. “Oh honey,” she gasped between laughs, “only you could get punched at work for being too thorough!”
