Gary is a very practical man. A major annoyance in his life is that his wife, Louella, isn’t as level-headed.

Oh, and all of the damned zombies, of course!

Be Practical

Gary heard the low, mournful moan as he stepped out onto the porch. In the middle of his front yard, dampened by the early morning dew, lurched a lively corpse. Its flesh was loose and pale; its arms outstretched. It caught sight of him and, with an excited murmur, staggered towards its prey.

“Louella!” Gary called over his shoulder. There was no answer. Where was the silly woman? Gary sighed and deftly do-si-do’d the zombie, trotting up to the mailbox to collect the mail.

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Ted has a soul. In fact, he has a whole collection of them! And he has come to the deep space mining bar looking to make a bargain. But it’s never that easy when you deal with the devil!

Ted’s Souls

The warm smell of lightly cooked flesh wafted through the air as the radium miners tramped into the bar at the end of the their shift. Soon the friendly banter of death threats and the soothing sound of broken glass filled the already heavy atmosphere as the end-of-shift crowd set about converting hard-earned credit into hangovers.

There are asteroid bars that welcome tourists. Flange’s Certain Death, for example, does a roaring trade in extreme sports enthusiasts, who backpack and hitchhike across the galaxy to drink, swap stories and head lice in a relatively friendly atmosphere. Safe pubs.

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