Funny Formaldehyde

I was preparing “Chubby Gus” for his open-casket funeral today.

I had just finished crossing his arms and reached up to straighten his tie when a cold, rigid hand clasped my wrist.

“It was the hooker’s fault, Morty,” I turned and stared into his murky eyes as his jaw flapped, “but it was one hell of a party.”

(Original Post Here)

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