Tendons and bones creaked as the corpse lolled its head toward me. “I realize now that my life was a series of amazing feelings,” it said in a sepucheral croak. “But now I can’t feel anything now.”

Hands shaking, the observer raised the pistol, noting with some alarm that the body already bore the marks of several bullets upon its putrefying flesh.

“You’re not shooting me like that, with the hammer down,” the dead thing rasped. “Do you need me to tell you how to use a gun?”

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