Rigor mortis sets in. Into his private parts as well.
Because of his “rigor mortis” the funeral director can't get
the coffin lid closed. They discuss the alternatives with the man's beautiful
"I'm afraid that the only way to get the lid on is
either to pay another $3,000 for an extra large coffin or to amputate his
"Well I have no more money," states the widow,
"and it is against my religion for me to bury my husband in more than one
The funeral director thinks about this and then comes up
with a brain-wave: He'll amputate the member and then stick it up the
deceased's backside, in which case a more expensive coffin is unnecessary and
the husband will still be, in a manner of speaking, in one piece.
The widow reluctantly agrees. On the day of the funeral, the
deceased is displayed in an open casket.
As the mourners file by, one mourner places flowers on the
coffin and a droplet of water from the flowers falls onto the deceased's face,
looking for all the world like a teardrop.
The next mourner to file by is the widow. She looks down at
her lifeless husband, notices the "teardrop" and whispers in his ear
. . .