Test run Graveyard stories.

Test run Graveyard stories.

So, I recently decided to take a job at the local cemetary, because collage educations were scams even before the curriculum was about how to fuck all the different types of monster girls to the best extent. Danuki's practically creamed themselves post-takeover when they saw the full extent of the college loan systems, though they ended up toning it down so that there could be more functional house husbands.
I don't want to be a house husband. My pop raised me right and gave me a healthy amount of work ethic. I'd go fucking nuts if I just had to sit in a house taking care of kids all day and watching Wheel of Fortitude. So yeah, manual labor, and what better place to do it than the cemetary? Despite being able to bench-press a house, most monster girls are still creeped out by gravestones, mist and the occasional zombie rising up. Not me, though. I loved zombie games when I was a kid, and I figure it steeled me for most of my jobs. Little more than a shovel needed to get shit done around here. A sharp edge, of course.

I was making my rounds after the most recent burial, making sure no ghouls got in. Ghouls are a strange case in that they want to eat dead bodies (the older the better, though they don't eat skeletons). Part of my job is dealing with that in the most diplomatic strategy that is known to me. More on that later.
Then, of course, I see the all too familiar look of a hand popping out of the ground. It seemed small, twitchy, and it had a funny sort of sleeve. When the arm pushed itself upwards and sent the rest of the body popping through the tough soil, I sighed and sat down next to the grave. On the gravestone I could see a few things. Hanako Murada, died at 16 years old, taken by truck. Natural causes, technically.
"What... is... this..." She said with halting "breaths", her face partially rotten. Doesn't even have lips, really. But resurrection's easy like that.
"You're in Matterhorn Cemetary. You've been dead for..." I looked at her gravestone for a moment. She continued staring ahead. "Ah, three years."
"What?" She turned to me, revealing that her right eye socket is empty. I think I can see a worm in there too, and I instantly regret eating macaroni before doing my rounds.
"You've been dead for three years, now you aren't. How's it feel?"
"...Cold. I'm tired."
Normal response.
"Aren't you going to wonder what happened to your family?"
"...Who are they?"
"If you keep placing dramatic pauses in front of every sentence I'm leaving."

She shakes her head at the sound of that, clearly a little rattled. I hear a distinct splat behind her after she did so.
"I-I'm sorry. I thought... I'm just a little confused."
"You were being dramatic. Also, your noodles just fell out." I point back to where the splat noise originated. Some grey matter fell out the back of her head, and she quickly started blushing at the thought of it. I looked away tastefully as she jams it back inside her.
"You know that stuff doesn't do anything, right?"
"But it... It's lewd!"
"It is literally anything except that." I say, with a by now signature thousand yard stare. Why are they like this.
"A-anyway... My family?"
"Well, they were probably pretty torn up about it. But you're not going to go see them."
"Why not?"
"Ever had a pet or something? How would you feel if scruffy came walking towards you looking like a truck ran them over and then let them rot for three years."
"This is oddly specific."
"Answer the question."
"I guess i'd be pretty freaked. But I wasn't really... I'm tired, mister."
"I know you are. All zombies don't actually want to be alive, but people keep boning on the graves and releasing mana every which way."
"What." Her cute, lost sort of expression makes way for a more human look of disgust. Ah, she'd look cute if that worm wasn't moving from her eye-socket to her nose.
"Yep, you came into existance because two people were fucking on your grave. Probably a ghoul that snagged a husband."
"Eeewww... I feel really dirty now."
"Really. Not the three years of dirt and migrating maggots? ."
"What?"
"Nevermind."

I get up, using my shovel as an assist to do so. Still half-buried, the zombie looks at me confused, tilting her head sideways.
*Splorp*
"Noodles."
"Sorry, I'll... uh..." Again, she stuffs them back inside.
"Is there a way to go back to sleep?"
"Yep."
I grab my shovel by the handle, and place my feet parallel to eachother. A slight knee bend and squared shoulders as I turn the shovel with the flat end towards her. She looks at me with more confusion than before, especially when I pull out my smartphone and turn it to camera mode. Gingerly, I place it on a candleholder just big enough to hold it, and turn on a delayed camera. Three seconds...
"What are you-"
"FORE!"
*SK-PANG*

The picture was as beautiful as ever. My face, a smile from ear to ear as the shovel flies over my shoulder and the girl's head is about three meters further. The face on the zombie a mix of confusion, disgust and plain old anger. Her body is raising both middle fingers, a fine reflex from when she was both alive and a teenager.
I got to work on digging her grave again, leaving the head for later collection. She'll rest again in relative peace.
God I love my job.