Explore "The Undertaker's Chat" by Mark Twain on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Now that corpse," said the undertaker, patting the folded hands of deceased approvingly, was a brick-every way you took him he was a brick. He was so real accommodating, and so modest-like and simple in his last moments. Friends wanted metallic burial-case -- nothing else would do. I couldn't get it. There warn't going to be time -- anybody could see that.
"Corpse said never mind, shake him up some kind of a box he could stretch out in comfortable, he warn't particular 'bout the general style of it. Said he went more on room than style, anyway in a last final container.