At the end of the Service, the pall-bearers are carrying the casket out when they accidentally bump into a wall, jarring the casket. They hear a faint moan.

They open the casket and find that the woman is actually still alive. She lives for ten more years and then dies.

A ceremony is again held at the same church and at the end of the ceremony, the pall bearers are again carrying out the casket. As they are walking, the husband cries out, "WATCH OUT FOR THAT WALL!"

A man is walking along when he sees a funeral procession going by, the longest procession he's ever seen. It seems to consist of the hearse, followed by a man with a Doberman on a leash, followed by several hundred other men. After watching for a few minutes, he can restrain his curiosity no longer, and walks up to one of the mourners.

"Excuse me, sir, I don't mean to bother you in your moment of grief, but this is the strangest procession I've ever seen. What happened, who is the funeral for?"

"Well, it's nothing special, really, the funeral is for the mother-in-law of the man at the front of the procession. You see, his Doberman attacked and killed her."

"That's awful!", replies the onlooker. "But... um... tell me, you don't think he'd let me borrow that dog, do you?" "Get in line, buddy," replies the mourner, "get in line."

Harry and Fred were playing their Sunday afternoon golf game. The game, as always, was close. They were at the treacherous 12th hole: a par three that required a perfect first shot over a large pond and onto a tiny green. There were sand traps on the other three sides of the green, and a small road 50 feet beyond it. Harry went first. He carefully addressed the ball and hit a good shot that landed just on the edge of the green, narrowly avoiding the pond.

Just as Fred addressed his ball, he looked up and noticed a funeral procession along the road just behind the green. Fred put down his club, took his hat off, and waited for the entire procession to pass. As soon as the cars were gone he put his hat back on and started addressing the ball again. Harry said, "Damn, Fred. That was a really nice thing you did, waiting for the funeral to pass like that."

Fred finished his swing, making perfect contact with the ball. It was an excellent shot that landed 7 feet from the hole. "It's the least I could do," he said, smiling at his shot, "We were married for 22 years, you know."