No subject has ever been off-limits for Larry David, who has spent a career in comedy saying exactly what he thinks- even it happens to offend African-Americans, poke fun at Parkinson’s patients or expose the awkwardness of accepted social norms.

Somehow, his observational humor always hits big, and it does so again in Broadway’s most popular show, Fish in the Dark. The creator of Seinfeld and Curb Your Enthusiasm is making his first appearance on stage, shattering any assumption that we’re not supposed to laugh about death and dying.

Officially opening March 5th, David’s newest work has sparked more than $14.5 million in advanced ticket sales. Fans eager to experience this end of life expose are finding seats at Cort Theatre difficult to come by, as only a few hundred tickets remain for the estimated 110 shows scheduled through June 7th.

For those who have ever considered the comedic elements of illness, intensive care and the intra-family dynamics that often accompany the dying process- this show is for you.

“Oh my God, who’s dead!”

Those are the first words of the curmudgeonly pessimistic Norman Drexel- played by David and hardly a stretch- in response to the three a.m. phone call we all dread.

Sure enough, the call did come from the hospital; it was regarding Drexel’s father. But he wasn’t dead just yet. Getting there, however.

Since no decisions would be made about his care until the doctor’s visit in the morning, Drexel asks the logical question to a full house of laughter and nods: “Then how does waking up at three a.m. do anything?” He then goes back to sleep.

He arrives at the hospital later, only to wait. And wait. He soon greets his brother, Arthur, who arrives with a statuesque and buxom blonde.

“His father’s dying, and he’s bringing a date?” Drexel asks his wife, Brenda, played by Rita Wilson.

He then turns to Arthur, played by Ben Shenkman, to point out the practical: “This is wildly inappropriate. I hate to inform you, but the deathbed is not a good place to introduce new people.”

The introduction turned out to be welcomed by their father, who is spotted touching the girlfriend’s breasts and thigh. She doesn’t seem to mind, at all. He is a dying man, and she’s delighted to ease his exit.

When the time comes for making medical decisions, Norman and Arthur realize they never had the discussions that the majority of Americans do not. They never learned their father’s end of life care preferences.

“The ventilator would keep him alive, but he would never recover,” the doctor tells them, instructing them to ask their father whether or not he would like to continue the intensive medical treatment.

When the brothers ask the doctor what he would do if they were not there, he says he would ask the patient himself. “Well, we’ll go get a bite, and you’ll have your ventilator talk,” Norman says desperately, hoping to avoid the uncomfortable encounter.

That’s just the first act.

The family dynamics from then on devolve, as neither brother knows exactly to whom their father was speaking when he uttered his last words: “Take care of your mother, I do not what her to live alone!”

If the overbearing, outspoken matriarch, Gloria, were to move in with Norman, his marriage with Brenda would be unquestionably jeopardized. However, Arthur won’t consider the possibility of his mother as roommate. His excuse: he just can’t.

Norman wonders why his father’s wishes are only voiced in his last breaths, and even then, they’re not too clear.

While the details of dying prove difficult for the Drexels, they are delicious for the audience, as we all see our own family eccentricities within this messy Jewish family with a Puerto Rican maid, Fabiana, played by Rosie Perez. While the Drexels do just about the antithesis of everything that could enable an enriching and peaceful end of life experience for their family, they do so to our delight. David’s sharp observations about this universality prove, once again, educational. Don’t do it like the Drexels did.