So this is my favorite joke. It is a little long, and I apologize for that, but trust me it's worth it. It's kind of a riddle, in that there are clues to the answer through it, so you may be able to figure it out if you're clever. Now, without further ado:
The Monk Joke

*ahem*

In the summer of 1988, Mark Laico was working as a traveling salesman for The Kirby Vacuum Company. Mark had just wasted a week in Lake Havasu City, Arizona, where he hadn’t sold a single vacuum. Frustrated but resolved he took off through the desert towards

Twentynine Palms, California, hoping for a change in his luck. The air conditioner in his car had been broken since the day he bought it, so he always traveled at night to avoid the desert heat. He had been heading West on Route 62 for about an hour

when he realized he haden’t had anything to eat all day, and started looking for a place he could stop for a bite. After another fifteen minutes he began passing signs advertising a coffee and sandwich shop called Daisy’s Diner, and decided that would be good enough.

Soon Mark saw Daisy’s neon sign on the side of the road. He pulled off the highway and into the small lot, then parked his car and walked into the small restaurant. The inside of the diner was poorly lit, but seemed cheerful enough despite there being no one inside other than

the elderly woman behind the counter. Old license plates covered the dark wood of the walls, and Mark couldn’t help but notice well over half of them were from Florida. Mostly they were the beat up old red and gold that he had seen plenty of times on the road,

but he spotted a couple sporting the blue, white, and orange colors of the special plates commemorating the Challenger Shuttle tragedy, which had only been issued last year. It was curious that plates this recent would already be decorating the walls of a little restaurant in

the middle of nowhere like this, but he put it out of his mind and took a seat at the counter. The waitress, who looked to be in her sixties, was dressed in jeans and a short sleeve shirt. Her forearm had a birthmark that looked so much like Texas that Mark mistook it for

a tattoo at first. She gave the salesman a friendly smile, and silently handed him a laminated menu. Mark ordered a turkey on rye, and a cup of coffee, which arrived promptly. After eating his sandwich, Mark began to feel drowsy.

He had originally planned on finding a hotel once he arrived in Twentynine Palms, but there was no way he would make it that far, he realized. After settling up his tab, he asked the waitress if there was anywhere around that he might be able to spend the night.

She considered him for a moment, then pulled out a black marker and started writing directions on a napkin. As she handed over the napkin, she looked him dead in the eye, and said,
“There is a monastery down the way. They will put you up for free, but you must follow their rules.

Whatever you do, never ever leave your room, no matter what you hear.”
This disclaimer surprised Mark.
“What sort of thing am I going to hear if I stay at this place?" he asked. The woman grimaced, and replied simply,
“They won’t tell me. I’m not a monk.”
This seemed ominous,

but Mark was tired, and he knew he didn’t have any better options for a place to sleep. He left the restaurant, got back in his car, and pulled out of the lot. Instead of getting back on Route 62, the directions had him head down a dirt road behind Daisy’s.

As he drove, heavy black clouds began to gather. Soon the moonlight was blotted out, leaving only the car’s headlamps to light up the night. Not long after, it began to rain. After about ten minutes of following the scrawled directions down zig zagging muddy old access roads,

Mark ended up arriving at an old brick building with a faded sign out front, that read “St. Albert’s Monastic Order”. There was no obvious place to park, so he pulled over on the side of the road. He got out and hurried through the pouring rain to the building,

and knocked urgently on the large wooden door. After a brief wait, the door creaked open, and a small man’s tonsured head poked out. The man looked the soaking wet salesman over with tired, deep set eyes, then opened the door fully and beckoned him inside.

Mark stepped out of the downpour and found himself in a large stone foyer lit by candlelight from sconces that lined the walls. In the center of the room on a black plinth was large marble statue depicting a creature unlike anything he had ever seen sitting on a large throne.

The creature had the body of a man with four arms, two on each side of his torso, dressed in some kind of ceremonial robe. The lower arms were clasped together as if in prayer, while the the other two stretched forward towards the door with grasping fingers.

In the dancing candlelight Mark thought for a moment the thing was alive and reaching for him. The statue’s head seemed to resemble a lion with a ring of six eyes staring out of its skull, and a large closed seventh eye in the center of the ring.

The lion creature had no lower jaw, and two massive tongues hung dead from its horrible mouth. After standing dumbstruck in front of the bizarre statue for what must have been several minutes, Mark was startled by the sound of the little man next to him clearing his throat.

He turned apologetically and tried to thank his host, but the little fellow held up a finger to shush him and walked off towards a side door, beckoning him to follow. He was led down a stone hallway, and as he followed he realized the small man was wearing a black robe that was

remarkably similar to the one depicted in the statue. Mark had never heard of St. Albert’s Monastic Order, but assumed his host must be one of the monks. After winding down a series of dark, stone hallways, they arrived at a simple wooden door with a brass knob and keyhole.

The monk reached into a large pocket in his black robe and pulled out a massive keyring with dozens of keys, each more bizarre than the last. Several of the keys seemed to be fairly standard, made of stained wood or simple black metal,

but others appeared to be crafted from stone, silver, gold, or even cut from crystal. The monk selected one that looked to be made of brass and pushed it into the lock, which clanged loudly as he turned the key. The door opened and the monk stepped aside,

ushering his guest into the room. Mark entered and turned to thank the monk, but was once more shushed with a gesture. The monk began to close the door behind him but paused, looked the damp salesman sternly in the eyes, and said in a quavering voice,

“This is your room for the night. Whatever you do, never ever leave your room, no matter what you hear.”
Mark felt disquieted hearing this, and asked,
“What does that mean? What kind of noises go on at night here?” The man pursed his lips and shook his head, then replied,

“I can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”
With that he closed the door and Mark heard him shuffle away. The salesman stood dripping water on the stone floor as he took in his surroundings. The room was simple and neat. A wooden bed with clean sheets was tucked into a corner,

and sitting on it was what appeared to be a dry set of handmade pants and a shirt. Next to the bed was a small round table, empty other than a lit candle, a newspaper, and a book of matches from Daisy’s Diner.

Mark changed out of his wet clothes and was thankful to find the new set fit him perfectly. He sat on the bed and picked up the newspaper. It turned out to be a Kansas City Star from January, 1986. The headline read: “CHALLENGER EXPLODES; NO HOPE FOR 7 IN CREW”.

Mark recalled that day, and didn’t feel any need to relive the tragedy. He set the paper aside, blew out the candle, and stretched out on the mattress. In almost no time, he had drifted off into a deep sleep.

He must have been unconscious for only an hour or so when he woke suddenly, covered in sweat and gripped by an unexplainable fear. The room was pitch black, and it took him several moments to remember where he was. When he got his bearings, he realized he had been woken

by a sound coming from the hallway. Through the door came a deep, rhythmic breathing, almost a purring sound, although it sounded choked and jagged. Whatever was making the sound was waiting just outside his room.

Mark felt a deep dread swelling inside his chest and slowly flow through his body until it consumed his mind. He wanted to scream, but instead held his breath, making himself stay silent in hopes that whatever was out there would leave.

The gurgling breath continued from the hall, but Mark began to hear another sound blending with it. It was too indistinct to make out at first, but soon he could make out a faint, monotonous chant. It began quietly, and slowly grew louder.

Soon the chant was all Mark could hear, and still it grew louder. Just as the stone walls began to quake from the sheer force of volume, there was silence.
The terrified salesman didn’t move for several minutes, praying that the sound from the hall wouldn’t come back.

After some time Mark began to breath normally again, He wondered if he had just had some kind of auditory hallucination, or even just a terrible nightmare.

As the fear passed he recalled the warning from the waitress and the monk to never leave his room, and a suspicion began to grow that some kind of joke was being played on him. Determined to get to the bottom of things, Mark sat up and fumbled for the matches on the nearby table.

Once he found them, he carefully lit the candle and carried it to the wooden door. He paused for a moment as fear began rush over him again, but he pushed it down. With all the resolve he could muster, Mark turned the brass handle and opened the door.

The hallway outside his room was pitch black. He held the candle forward, but the light refused to penetrate the darkness outside. After a moment of hesitation he steeled his nerves, stepped into the hall, and was plunged instantly into total darkness.

Mark froze in horror. His fingernails dug into the palm of his clenched fist, and he realized the candle had disappeared. Terrified, he spun around and groped for the door but found only empty space. Panic gripped him and he tried to call out, but was unable to make a sound.

The darkness pressed in mercilessly, crushing him under its weight.

Quick interjection here to remind everyone that this is absolutely a joke, I’m not just getting carried away. Bear with me, we’re going to get through this.

Where was I.

Just as he thought he was going to pass out, Mark was surrounded in a blinding light.
With the light came a freezing wind. He shivered in the cold, blinking as his eyes adjusted. When his vision came into focus he found himself standing in a field.

Before he could begin to process what was happening there was a deafening roar behind him, and he was nearly knocked off his feet by a blast of hot air. He turned, and watched in stunned silence as the space shuttle, Challenger, began its fatal lift off.

The spacecraft had barely begun its ascent when the world was again plunged into darkness. Mark’s mind raced as he stood silently in the black infinity.

Mere seconds passed this time before reality shifted once more and the salesman found himself hovering weightlessly in an endless red expanse, unable to breath. The void churned silently around him, and he saw incomprehensible alien shapes hovering in the vast distance.

This scene only lasted a moment before it blinked out of existence and the abyss took him for the third time. Gravity returned in an instant and he collapsed against the hard ground, gasping for breath.

Instead of pitch black nothingness as before, a flat, glassy surface extended endlessly in every direction. A gargantuan throne towered over the flat landscape, and on it sat the seven eyed lion.

The creature was a thousand times larger than its stone replica, and a thousand times more horrible. The lower set of clawed hands were clasped over its robe like the statue.

The upper set rested on the arms of the throne, but they began to rise and reach forward like the replica in the monastery. As this was happening, Mark was startled by the sound of a belch.
He spun around to find a woman, a man, and a cat behind him on the glass expanse.

The woman had scars across the right side of her face, and a solid white glass eye. She seemed to be ignoring Mark altogether, instead focusing on the lion creature.

The man next to her was short and heavyset, wore a pince nez, and seemed to be dressed expensively. His face was red with embarrassment.

“I am SO sorry about that”, he said sheepishly. “I just had a soda, you see. The first in… ten years, I think? It really got the better of me there.”
As the man spoke, the cat sat glaring up at him. It was large, orange, and thoroughly unimpressed.

A moment of awkward silence passed. After a moment, the woman said quietly, “Thoughts?”
Mark tried to find a reply, but before he could the large orange cat yawned, stretched, and said,
“Yes. Fuck this.”

The woman nodded.
“Agreed.” She pulled a small metallic device with a red button out of her pocket, pressed it with her thumb, and the world went black once more.

Mark bolted upright in his bed. He sat motionless, staring straight ahead and trembling. When he finally began to calm down slightly, he realized the monk was standing silently nearby, watching him. He fixed his wild eyes on the small man, and after a moment managed to ask,

“What is this place? What did I just see?” He climbed out of the bed and stood on shaking legs in front of the monk. “You can’t tell me that was a dream! What is going on here? Tell me!”
The monk looked up at him, and calmly replied,

“No, that was no dream. What you just saw is the reason this place exists. There is a secret in the center of this building that is the key to all you witnessed.”
Mark grabbed the monk by the front of his robe, nearly lifting him off the ground.
“WELL?” he shouted, “WHAT IS IT?”

He leaned in close to the monk. “And if you even think about saying you can’t tell me because I’m not a monk I’ll… I’ll...”
The man smiled humorlessly.
“Actually, you are a monk now. Or almost, at any rate.”
Mark eyed him with suspicion, then let go of his robe.

“What does that mean?”
The small man straightened his robe, then beckoned Mark to follow him as he walked out of the room. As they walked, he started talking.

“Firstly, we are not St. Albert’s Monastic Order. I just had that sign made to keep people from asking questions. In actuality, we are Saint Daisy’s Brotherhood of Eschatological Recursion. Very few people know about us, and this is for the best.

We have one roll to play in the cosmic order of things, but it is a very important roll indeed. This building is much, much older than it would seem from the outside, and was constructed around something that will either save, or doom every last person on this fragile planet.

We are here to protect it, and hopefully guide it towards our salvation. What you just went through is the initiation to our order. It is not a choice, but something that chooses you, and it seems you were chosen to join us.”
They arrived at a large stone door.

The monk pulled out his large keyring, selected a stone key, and unlocked the door. They walked through and entered a large empty room with another door on the far wall, this one made of silver. As the monk sorted through his keyring for the silver key, he continued.

“Now, in order to learn our secret, you must take the last step towards becoming a monk.”
He unlocked the door and they passed through into a smaller room. On the far side was another door, this one made of gold. As he unlocked this with the matching gold key, Mark asked,

“Well, what is it I have to do for you to tell me about this big secret? How do I become a monk?”
They entered a very small room. A large crystal door took up the entire wall on the far side of the room, and a dim light could be seen moving erratically on the other side.

The monk replied in a dreamy voice,
“You have been through the initiation, now all that is left are the two vows. First, you must swear to remain here for the rest of your days.”
Mark was stunned. His first thought was that there would be no way he would commit his life to this.

But, then he recalled everything he had just seen. He had questions that needed to be answered, or he would never sleep soundly again. It slowly dawned on him he was going to go through with this.

“I see. Well, it sounds like I don’t really have a choice. I agree to stay here from now on. What is the second vow?”
The monk’s stared at him with piercing eyes.

“Under absolutely no conditions, may you ever reveal the secret of what is behind this door to anyone who is not a monk.”
The two men stood silently for a moment, then Mark nodded curtly.
“Understood. I will take it to my grave. Now please, show me what this is about.”

The monk smiled, said,
“Of course, brother Laico. Right this way”
And opened the door.

Would you like to know what was behind the door?

I can't tell you, you're not a monk.

And now, to throw people off who try to skip to the end, here are the lyrics to Tutti Frutti by Little Richard

Wop-bop-a-loo-mop alop-bom-bom
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, woo!
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Awop-bop-a-loo-mop alop-bom-bom

I got a girl named Sue
She knows just what to do
I got a girl named Sue
She knows just what to do

She rock to the east
She rock to the west
But she's the girl that I love best

Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, woo!
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Awop-bop-a-loo-mop alop-bom-bom

I got a girl named Daisy
She almost drive me crazy
I got a girl named Daisy
She almost drive me crazy

She knows how to love me
Yes, indeed
Boy, you don't know what she do to me

Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, woo!
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Awop-bop-a-loo-mop, ow!

Oh, tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, woo!
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti

Awop-bop-a-loo-mop alop-bom-bom

I got a girl named Daisy
She almost drive me crazy
I got a girl named Daisy
She almost drive me crazy

She knows how to love me
Yes, indeed
Boy, you don't know what she do to me

Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, woo!
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti

Awop-bop-a-loo-mop alop-bam-boom!

Goodnight!