The reaper writes jokes

Jared was the type of guy who navigated his life with little a care in the world. Jared had no clue what he wanted to do with his life, and that was ok with him. Jared did the bare minimum in his classes and spent most of his days, lazing around and reading comics, much to the chagrin of his parents. Jared got mostly Cs and Bs in his classes, and one day his parents tried to sit him down and lecture him on why he needed to try harder in school.

“If you don’t get better grades, you won’t get into a good University. Do you C why this might be a problem?” Jared’s mom asked him.

“Why should I go to college when I don’t even know what I want to B yet?” Jared retorted.

“He could be a beekeeper.” Suggested his dad.

“That’s dangerous, but I bet a lot of beekeepers have college degrees.” His mom pondered.

“Probably in Bee-ology.” The dad remarked.

“You don’t seem like you’re taking this very seriously.” Jared noted.

“Well I’m taking it seriously, and you need to get a degree to get a good job.” Jared’s mom insisted.

Jared’s mom set an appointment for Jared to meet with his school counselor to figure out what he might do for a living. Jared was not enthused when the day of the appointment rolled around.

“How much thought have you put into what you want to do in the future?” The counselor aske

“Thought? Not any. But I have done a lot of algebra homework.” Jared quipped.

The counselor paused. “Do you like algebra?”

“Hate it.” Jared responded, “But I have to do it to keep my parents off my back.”

“What do you like doing then?” The counselor asked him.

“I like reading the funny pages.” Jared told her.

“The what?” The counselor seemed taken aback.

“Like Garfield.” Jared told her.

“James Garfield the president?” the counselor pressed.

“No, James Garfield the cat. Actually I don’t know that his first name is James, but I can show you.” Jared pulls out a coffee soaked newspaper from his bag and points to the comic strips.

“Oh, you like the comic strips in the newspaper.” The counselor remarked. “What is this newspaper covered in though?”

“I forgot that my coffee was in a regular mug and not a travel mug this morning.” Jared explained.

“So do you want to be a comic artist?” The counselor asked.

“Probably not.” Jared told her.

“Ok, give me some time to make a list of job suggestions for you and in the meantime, don’t poor any more coffee into your backpack again.”

“I won’t, I don’t like how wet and sticky my back is from it.” Jared remarked.

“Please change your clothes and go back to class.” The counselor told Jared.

Jared changed into his gym clothes and nobody got dress coded.

Jared’s last class of the day was English, and they were reading the Great Gatsby. In the middle of another student reading the passage where the billboard gets described Jared blurts out “Great Gatsby, more like Gross Gatsby.” Before the teacher can respond to Jared’s outburst, the bell rings.

“Eureka!” Jared yells. He then sprints to the counselor’s office.

Jared barges in on a conversation with a student about Harvard University. The other student is holding a handful of community college pamphlets. The counselor briefly ignores Jared and tries to finish her conversation with the other student.

“I just don’t think Harvard is in the cards for you Michael. Why don’t you tour the community college down the way some time?” The counselor pressed as Michael gets up to leave.

“Hey!” Jared says, pulling a Harvard pamphlet from a bin off the wall. “Chase your dreams.” He ordered while handing a pamphlet to Michael.

Michael leaves and Jared turns back to the counselor. “I know what I want to do!” Jared declares.

“Jared, that boy was a senior with a 2.1 gpa and a 1080 SAT, he is NOT getting into Harvard.” The counselor whined.

“I don’t see how I was supposed to know that.” Jared remarked. The counselor sighs a deep breath and rubs her temples.

“I have a list of potential jobs you could toward.” The counselor told Jared.

“Thanks but no thanks. Don’t you want to know what I came up with?” Jared asked.

The counselor takes another deep breath and slowly closes and reopens her eyes, then asks: “What did you come up with Jared?”

“I’M GOING TO BE A STAND UP COMEDIAN!” Jared declared his ambition so loud that other school faculty peered into the office to check that everything was ok. Jared stood proudly with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out.

“That’s a lovely though Jared.” The counselor conceded, “However…”

“However?” Jared said inquisitively.

“Stand up comedians don’t usually make a lot of money, and it’s a very difficult profession to really break into.” The counselor explained.

“So I shouldn’t be a stand up comedian?” Jared asked, looking deflated as a tire with too many plugs and patches on it.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t chase your dream,” The counselor elaborated “but you should look for a more stable income until stand up comedy starts providing you enough to live off of.”

“All I need to live are smiles, giggles, and the blood of the ender dragon.” Jared smiled as the counselor stared at him blankly for a moment, following that remark.

“Right, well here’s a list of jobs that might provide for you better than stand up comedy.” The counselor hands him a printed piece of paper.

“Thanks teach! Gotta go catch the bus.” Jared sprints out of the office to the bus loop.

“Shit!” The counselor exclaimed. “Jared wait!” but it was too late.

Jared got home and realized he couldn’t read the first job suggestion, so he asked his mom.

“That says anesthesiologist dear.” She told him, remarkably paying no mind to the other options on the list. They were nuclear engineer, electrical engineer, post-doctoral researcher, college professor, medical examiner, and surgeon. The counselor had given him the wrong list and Jared was never the wiser.

“I can’t possibly do all of these, what was the counselor thinking?” Jared said out loud as he sat on his bed. “I guess I’ll start with medical examiner.”

10 years later, Jared was officially a physician in residency, resenting the lack of time he had to practice his stand-up routine, but every so often, he’d crack a joke and make a patient laugh. Sometimes patients shouldn’t have been laughing, but Jared had gone through nine years of medical school, and most didn’t have the heart to tell him to be more careful with his comedic inclinations.

After four years of residency and a forensic pathology fellowship, Jared was finally in the grim role of medical examiner, and finally had time to explore his comedy career.

Jared’s first stand up routine went as follows:

“I waited so long to do stand up comedy that my lower back will never recover. But on the bright side, I know exactly how I’ll look during the autopsy.”

“Dating’s hard, as a medical examiner. I once told someone I was into body language—she didn’t know I meant rigor mortis.”

“My patients never complain, but the sheriff’s office sure does when they can’t read my handwriting on the autopsy.”

Jared puts on a pair of glasses and squints at a clipboard that’s been sitting on the stool next to him. “Alright, let’s see here… cause of death: ‘blunt ..foie gras?’”

Jared takes off the glasses and steps to the left. “That says blunt force trauma.”

Jared steps back to the right with the glasses “To the head?”

Jared steps to the left “Yes.”

Jared steps to the right “Your handwriting is so bad it makes me question if I’m the one with head trauma.”

Jared bows and exits the stage. Jared never made comedy his main career, but he stuck with it and his routines improved. (No head trauma necessary).