I don't remember exactly how it went, but there used to be a joke that asked what Thom McAn and the US Postal Service had in common, and the answer was thousands of loafers.
There was a nasty rumor (which was confirmed for me later when one of the parties told me the story) about a terrible but funny mishap involving one portly couple who were both employed at the Dallas BMC.
He was a great wit, actually, as I got to know him when we worked in the same area some years after this story took place. By the time I met him, he'd divorced his wife, carried on rearing their son, and she'd picked up a hitchhiker whom she married. Later S would tell me that he searched and searched until he found a woman with absolutely no redeeming qualities, and married her.
Anyway, the story was there was an orphaned kitten was hanging around the parking lot for days and days, and people would toss it little bits of food as they went to/from their cars at shift change.
S & his wife took pity upon the poor little thing and took it home. Mr. and Mrs. S were both apparently quite the rotund pair at the time, and, unwisely, allowed the kitten to sleep with them that evening.
Alas, they awakened to find sometime in the night the kitten had suffocated under their combined girth.
What amazes me about this story is merely the fact that they breathed a word of the sad outcome to anyone. I mean, think about what a struggle a suffocating animal would put up, and consider how much pudge you'd have to be sporting to not notice an animal beneath your dunlap in the throes of a mortal struggle.
Anyway, you know how exciteable I am and how I am bad to overshare, but hell, that's one I'd take to the grave with me. Oh, and a loose-lipped spouse would be justifiably relieved of the burden of his entrails for blabbing. But that's just me.