My Idea for a Building Plus One Joke

          I had an idea for a building. It was simple. It had to be; I didn’t have much space in my apartment. I kept my idea for a building in the top of my apartment’s rear stairwell, which meant my idea for a building was a genuine fire hazard. In the event of a fire in the front stairwell, I would be forced to smash through my idea for a building with a hammer. Whether or not it was even possible to do so in under an hour was debatable. But I decided to live with the risk. There was no other place to put it.

          I’m embarrassed to say what my idea for a building was.

          My idea for a building was a concrete cube in every way but one, which was this: the idea for a building featured a slot I could open which lead to a crawl space with just enough room for my body to fit inside. Entering was difficult. I pulled myself in with an idea for a rope. Once inside, I pressed an idea for a button, and the slot closed, concealing my presence in the idea for a building from the outside. Inside, the air was cool. I had some ideas for a surreptitious ventilation system which kept the air cool and fresh. And the darkness was absolute. It wasn’t an idea for darkness, but darkness itself. When I was ready to exit, I would press the idea for a button again, wait for the slot to open, then wriggle out slowly (the idea for a rope was useless on the way out).

          One afternoon, while I was inside the idea for a building, the idea for a button stopped working, which meant the slot wouldn’t open. I was trapped.

          I began to pray. I said, “God, if my idea for a building is what’s going to kill me, please make it swift. I can’t stand to suffer for long inside something that has brought me such happiness.”

          I said, “God, maybe you’re right. My idea of happiness needs to be reshaped entirely.”

          I said, “God, help, help, help.”

          Finally, God, in his great mercy, answered my plea. He gave me an idea for a new button—an idea that came out of nowhere. I pressed this new idea for a button. The slot opened. I wriggled my way out.

          Have I told you the one about the surgeon?

          Somewhere, in some far-off idea for a building, a surgeon walks into an idea for a surgery room.

          “Hello?” he says. “Is anyone here? Where is everyone? Hello?”

          By this point his heart is full of dread.