Dying to Get In

A young pathologist bites into an apple while conducting an autopsy. His supervisor walks in a moment later, sees the apple, sees the young pathologist chewing, and shouts, "What are you doing?"

The young pathologist flinches and says, "This is the morgue. I'm eating. Everyone on TV and in movies eats in the morgue."

His supervisor says, "I know that, but you'll ruin your appetite," as he moves to a nearby gurney and pulls away a white sheet. Beneath it lies a fully appointed salad bar.

By the end of the week, the pizza buffet, chocolate fountain and Mongolian grill have been installed. There is hardly enough room to roll in bodies to the examination table.

The supervisor's supervisor laments, "What have you done to my morgue?" The supervisor flinches and says, "Everybody eats in the morgue." His boss shouts, "No! Only morgue technicians and pathologists used to eat in the morgue! Now everyone wants to eat down there!"

Weeks later, the morgue is filled with small dining tables covered with white linen, a candle on each for ambiance; a congenial murmur rises from the formally dressed diners. In a far corner of the morgue sits the young pathologist, a small desk lamp illuminating bills of lading before him. He speaks quietly, but forcefully into a telephone, trying to get a better deal on veal and fennel.