Another fat person story from my father.

So, like 4 or 5 years ago, my dad was at home, when he gets a call from our then-neighbor the town mortician.

"Hey, [my dad's name]," he was like, "Can you come into town now and help us? We really need it."

"That's nice," my dad was like, "But I'm kind of busy and I can't drop everything."

Then, our then-neighbor the mortician explained that a 500lb. guy had died and everyone at the home was trying to lift him into the coffin, but the 5 of them couldn't quite do it, and they needed a 6th since the funeral was in a few hours.

So, my dad went in, and they had this massive dead guy laid out in a sheet, and nearby this custom coffin that was really just sheetboard with a couple brass handles stuck on the end.

Then, my dad and our then-neighbor and the assistant mortician and the secretaries from the office and the owner all stood around the sheet, and they lifted and hefted and lifted and hefted and finally got the fat dead guy into the coffin.

Only, the owner is this really small petite brown-haired (white) lady, and she kind of let her edge of the sheet drop at one point, and the fat dead guy actually dented the wood edge all along the side of the coffin.

"Well," our then-neighbor the mortician was like, "I guess we'll have to make it a lefthand presentation," and he put some bunched-up cloth over the dent in the edge of the sheetboard, and swivelled the coffin around to put the fat dead guy's head on the left.

"Damn," the owner was like, mopping the sweat off her forehead with the sleeve of her suit, "Doesn't that just make you go want to get a CHEEEEEEESE-BURGER?"