Bob came home from work looking like he’d gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer. His wife gasped at the sight of his swollen black eye. “What on earth happened to you today?” she asked, rushing to get an ice pack.
Bob sighed heavily as he sank into his chair. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. Got called to a fancy downtown hotel where a guest had passed away peacefully in his sleep. Should have been straightforward, but…”
He rubbed his temples before continuing. “When I arrived, the manager pulled me aside looking embarrassed. Turns out they couldn’t get the deceased into a body bag because… well… let’s just say rigor mortis worked in his favor, if you catch my meaning.”
His wife’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh my!”
“Exactly! So I go up to the room, and sure enough, there’s this very… enthusiastic gentleman lying there. I figured the best approach was to just bend it downward to get him properly positioned.” Bob demonstrated with his hands. “I grabbed with both hands and put my back into it – that’s when everything went wrong.”
His wife gasped. “Don’t tell me you-“
“Yep,” Bob interrupted. “Turns out I was in the wrong room. The actual deceased was next door.” He winced as he touched his bruised eye. “The living gentleman was not pleased with my… professional approach.”
