Mme Vertaigne stubbed out her cigarette in

Mme Vertaigne stubbed out her cigarette in her mummified husband's palm. She exhaled the last of her grief and left the shed. Time to call the coroner. The autumn

chill had kept the corpse of Msr. Vertaigne well preserved in the shed. The Coroner, Mr. Baines found no blemish on the body but thought it curious Mme. Vertaigne waited 8 weeks to

tell me she was pregnant. So thoughtless of her. The whole time the Coroner had been wondering if she'd been eating too many finger sandwiches. Msr. Vertaigne couldn't have

known how to deal with my getting a zombie pregnant. After all, it seemed like something straight out of a Poe story. The sandwiches weren't exactly helping.

My pregnant zombie girlfriend was not blooming. I'd go to brush my teeth at night and find a finger in the basin. "Darling!" I'd call out, "I think this belongs to you." I'd sew it

back on each time, and zombified as she was, she didn't even wince. Still I decided to buy her a pair of long black opera gloves to wear every day to keep her hands intact.

She liked my gift very much, so much in fact that when she wore her gloves, she'd actually sing opera. "O terra addio!" she trilled, her zombie soprano rising dramatically

Zombie Operas were the new solutions for limited budgets. All that was required was a nimble seamstress. The soprano's gloved hands were a particular problem. Fingers kept falling

with a creepy sound on the glass floor. One time, one of the zombie singers lost his entire arm - while playing guitar. It was a very weird moment. The entire show stopped.