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Description
After Work

Charles found his receptionist curled up in front of the television with a scowl on her face and a tub of popcorn on her lap.
"How are zombies the fault of the democrats?" she asked him.
"Well, most scientists are liberals, and scientists created the zombies…"
"Says the mad scientist who finally deigned to come up from his lab."
"It's a morgue, and I was just doing the embalming." Charles walked over to her and grabbed a handful of popcorn. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"I can tell. Did it ever occur to you to shower after mucking around with that junk and before eating?"
"It never crossed my mind. Were there any calls today?"
"V called to say that she's going to need to order some new parts for the hearse, which will take a few weeks to come in. The guard has been combing this area for the living dead, so it'll take longer for supplies to get through."
"Fantastic." Charles plopped onto the couch next to her. "How am I supposed to run a funeral home without a hearse?"
"V suggested strapping the coffins into the back of her pickup. She's got some bungie cords if you're interested."
Charles groaned. "I may take her up on that if this keeps up."
They watched the television in silence for several minutes.
The pundits were discussing the white house decision to raise the zombie alert level from yellow to orange. It seemed to be going on smoothly until on asked in a bitter voice, if the alert was being raised because of the election in the upcoming week.
How dare he! Was he siding with the zombies? Was he suggesting that this was political? The other speakers broke out into shouts and angry gestures. One was practically on top of the table, looking as if any minute he would leap across it to strangle the dissenter. Charles was holding a mental countdown until the shouting turned into blows.
"You know, I've forgotten what they were supposed to be reporting on. I really hate these people," she said after a few minutes. "It's like were watching Maury instead of the nightly news."
Charles gave her a small smirk. "If you hate it so much, then why don't you change the station?"
"Your cat has the remote." She gestured towards a large bear of a cat asleep on the bookcase. The remote peeked out from under his butt. The cat gave her a glaring look through slit eyes.
"Again, fantastic." Charles swung over the back of the couch. "Charon always picks just the right place to take a nap."
"He's your cat, not my responsibility."
Charles walked over to the towering bookshelf. The cat had curled atop The Spanish Inquistion and the Zombie Survival Guide. He gently lifted up Charon's butt and slid out the remote.
"You know, most employers wouldn't take this sort of sass from their employees."
"Most employers don't hire their exes after scaring off the majority of their employees with unholy experiments of doom." She wiggled her fingers around her face for emphasis.
"It was an April fools gag, I didn't actually raise the dead. Remember, that that was the liberals. I just pulled a 'William Castle' on them."
"William Castle flew a fake skeleton over the heads of his audience. You convinced the whole town that you had managed to resurrect your beagle."
"Details."
"Whatever." She said as the rolled her eyes. "Anyways, while we're on the subject, does Brianna know you've got me working all the way out here?"
"She knows you're keeping me in line until she gets back from the university."
"She knows we dated in high school."
"She knows you're an unforgiving harpy here to punish me for past deeds."
"We need to get out of here. Normal people don't talk like that. Now change the friggin' station already."
Charles flipped channels until he found a movie. A mass of screaming, panicked people ran in terror from a rampaging monster. It swung its ungainly tail, which knocked down a tower and sent rubble flying onto the heads of pedestrians.
Charles leaned over his receptionist's shoulder to grab another handful of popcorn.
"So how did your day go?" She asked him.
"It went. Nobody rose from the slab today, and I finished with the paperwork."
"Good, I'll look over them tomorrow?"
"What, don't you trust me?"
"No." She wrinkled her nose again. "Gods Charles, take a shower already. You smell like a biology class."
"In a little. Say, did the television actually blame the zombies on the democrats?"
She rolled her eyes and handed him the popcorn.

Description
After Work

Charles found his receptionist curled up in front of the television with a scowl on her face and a tub of popcorn on her lap.
"How are zombies the fault of the democrats?" she asked him.
"Well, most scientists are liberals, and scientists created the zombies…"
"Says the mad scientist who finally deigned to come up from his lab."
"It's a morgue, and I was just doing the embalming." Charles walked over to her and grabbed a handful of popcorn. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"I can tell. Did it ever occur to you to shower after mucking around with that junk and before eating?"
"It never crossed my mind. Were there any calls today?"
"V called to say that she's going to need to order some new parts for the hearse, which will take a few weeks to come in. The guard has been combing this area for the living dead, so it'll take longer for supplies to get through."
"Fantastic." Charles plopped onto the couch next to her. "How am I supposed to run a funeral home without a hearse?"
"V suggested strapping the coffins into the back of her pickup. She's got some bungie cords if you're interested."
Charles groaned. "I may take her up on that if this keeps up."
They watched the television in silence for several minutes.
The pundits were discussing the white house decision to raise the zombie alert level from yellow to orange. It seemed to be going on smoothly until on asked in a bitter voice, if the alert was being raised because of the election in the upcoming week.
How dare he! Was he siding with the zombies? Was he suggesting that this was political? The other speakers broke out into shouts and angry gestures. One was practically on top of the table, looking as if any minute he would leap across it to strangle the dissenter. Charles was holding a mental countdown until the shouting turned into blows.
"You know, I've forgotten what they were supposed to be reporting on. I really hate these people," she said after a few minutes. "It's like were watching Maury instead of the nightly news."
Charles gave her a small smirk. "If you hate it so much, then why don't you change the station?"
"Your cat has the remote." She gestured towards a large bear of a cat asleep on the bookcase. The remote peeked out from under his butt. The cat gave her a glaring look through slit eyes.
"Again, fantastic." Charles swung over the back of the couch. "Charon always picks just the right place to take a nap."
"He's your cat, not my responsibility."
Charles walked over to the towering bookshelf. The cat had curled atop The Spanish Inquistion and the Zombie Survival Guide. He gently lifted up Charon's butt and slid out the remote.
"You know, most employers wouldn't take this sort of sass from their employees."
"Most employers don't hire their exes after scaring off the majority of their employees with unholy experiments of doom." She wiggled her fingers around her face for emphasis.
"It was an April fools gag, I didn't actually raise the dead. Remember, that that was the liberals. I just pulled a 'William Castle' on them."
"William Castle flew a fake skeleton over the heads of his audience. You convinced the whole town that you had managed to resurrect your beagle."
"Details."
"Whatever." She said as the rolled her eyes. "Anyways, while we're on the subject, does Brianna know you've got me working all the way out here?"
"She knows you're keeping me in line until she gets back from the university."
"She knows we dated in high school."
"She knows you're an unforgiving harpy here to punish me for past deeds."
"We need to get out of here. Normal people don't talk like that. Now change the friggin' station already."
Charles flipped channels until he found a movie. A mass of screaming, panicked people ran in terror from a rampaging monster. It swung its ungainly tail, which knocked down a tower and sent rubble flying onto the heads of pedestrians.
Charles leaned over his receptionist's shoulder to grab another handful of popcorn.
"So how did your day go?" She asked him.
"It went. Nobody rose from the slab today, and I finished with the paperwork."
"Good, I'll look over them tomorrow?"
"What, don't you trust me?"
"No." She wrinkled her nose again. "Gods Charles, take a shower already. You smell like a biology class."
"In a little. Say, did the television actually blame the zombies on the democrats?"
She rolled her eyes and handed him the popcorn.