6376 - Long joke Sunday

Three writers, Frank, Ben, and Carl, who were attending a author's convention, booked a three bedroom suite on the 75th floor of a hotel.

Upon arriving back at their inn from the convention, a mortified receptionist told them, "I'm terribly sorry, but all the elevators are out of order. Until fixed, you will have to hike the stairs."

Now, Frank was a teller of funny stories, Ben was a conjurer of spooky stories, and Carl was a crafter of sad stories. 

The three of them concluded that, to make the trek to the top more tolerable, Frank would tell the other two his most hilarious stories while they climbed from floors 1 to 25, Ben would intone his scariest stories from floors 26 to 50, and Carl would regale them with his saddest stories from floors 51 to 75.

They began the arduous climb to the top story, and Frank banged out the zaniest yarns he had ever put to paper. 

By the time they reached the 25th floor, Ben and Carl were howling hysterically.

Then Ben started to intone his spooky stories. 

By the time they hit the 50th floor milestone, Frank and Carl were wide-eyed and hugging each other in fear.

Then the spotlight was turned on poor Carl, and just as he started to narrate his most sorrowful sagas, he shrugged his shoulders, looked down in sadness, put his hands in his pockets for effect, and it then struck him that he had just had the inspiration for his most mournful tale yet:

"I'll tell my saddest story of all right off the bat," he says looking up: "There once was a man named Carl who left the hotel room key in the car..."