“Hey,” the employee–Jeff, according to his name tag–snapped his fingers. “If you can hear me, tell me your name.”

“Mortis.”

“Seriously?” Jeff looked at his fellow employee. “Sarah, you ever hear of people raised as zombies taking on new and more heavy metal names?”

“Makes sense, I guess,” she said, loudly popping a blink bubble of gum and sucking it back in. “Who wants to be a zombie called Steve?”

“Look, it’s not a new zombie name,” Mortis said. “I went by it when I was alive, okay?”

“Is that why you got chewed on by a pack of fasties?” Jeff said. “Death wish of something?”

“Zombie-curious?” Sarah said, snapping a fresh bubble.

“What? No! I had kind of a goth phase in high school, and it stuck,” Mortis said. “I go by Mort most of the time.”

“Oh, so you changed like Mortimer to Mortis?” Jeff said. “That’s kind of cool, I guess.”

“No, I decided that William James Miller IV wasn’t doing it for me, and neither was ‘’Billy,’” Mortis said. “Now can you please help me up?”

“I guess that does kinda rule out Junior, being the fourth,” Sarah said.

“Or Trey, or Trip, cuz those mean the third, right?” said Jeff. “What about Chip? You could go by Chip.”

“How about I go by Mortis? My grandpa is Chip, and he’s already outlived me. Now a little help?”

“Okay, okay,” Jeff said. He hauled Mortis into a sitting position. “Thanks to your Z-Surance, we’ve been able to give you the works. Stitched up the bite marks, replaced your blood with preservatives…”

“Given you the wax coating,” Sarah piped in, sticking her tongue out for a fresh bubble pop.

“Yes, the full Lenin as we like to call it,” said Jeff. “With regular maintenance and application of our Anti-Rot Coating (sold separately) your zombie fixed body can last indefinitely.”

“Unless you want to convert,” Sarah added. “Z-Surance doesn’t cover it if you wanna be a skeleton or something.”

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