Death is something that’s pretty universally unpopular, which is why folks avoid life insurance agents like the plague. Nobody loves talking about their impending demise, but it’s something that’s bound to happen to all of us sooner or later (at least until they figure out how to upload us into robots or do some kind of Altered Carbon thing.) And those who work in the business of death can sometimes find it hard to make friends. After all, the life of an undertaker isn’t exactly glamorous. The man in this fictional joke can certainly attest to that. You see, Bob came home one day after a very tough day at work.
Bob, an undertaker, recently came home with a black eye:
“What happened to you?” Asked his wife.
“I had a terrible day.” Replied Bob.
“I had to go to a hotel and pick up a man who had died in his sleep. When I got there, the manager said they couldn’t get him into a body bag because he had this huge erection.
Anyway, I went up and, sure enough, there was this big naked guy laying on the bed with this huge erection.
So I grabbed it with both hands and tried to bend it in half.”
“I see.” Said his wife.
“That must have been awful, but how did you get the black eye?”
Bob replied.
“Wrong room!”
