Crooked Undertaker

I owned a funeral parlor and I earned a lot of bread. I got paid a whole lot of money to cremate the dead. Each cadaver that I got rid of earned me five hundred grand. I cremated murder victims and for years I was in high demand. OJ wanted to hire me. But he didn't like the million dollar fee. I always got repeat business from the Mob. I fried those corpses when I turned the knob. You'd better believe that when I cremated a body, it was much hotter than a sauna. I'm extremely surprised that nobody ever wound up hiring me to cremate Madonna. When I got through burning a corpse, there was never even a trace of evidence. But the Police broke down my door as I was frying somebody and it was intense. After being sentenced to fifty years in prison, people nicknamed me 'The Baker'. If you need to get rid of a corpse, you'll have to call another crooked undertaker. (This is a fictional poem)