The Recession Of Dead End Job or, the Recession Hit Undertakers

There aren't the bodies like there used to be. Five foot six, look! Ah, back when I was a boy being fitted into coffins by my dear old undertaking dad, he would say "snug?" and before I could whisper a sound booooooooomph! Lid closed and laugh he would, as I as very tall as a boy. Eight foot three then I lost my knees in the war.

Which war?

The war of wounded knee.

Wounded knee? That was a battle

A battle yes, but part two made it a war.

Wars were shorter then.

Like people. People used to be shorter.

I thought they were taller?

Only when kneeling down.