The Bodies, Harold!

“Have you taken care of the bodies, Harold?” Biggie asked his companion as he picked up another skull. The short man held the skull up into the light, judged it sufficiently preserved and in possession of a particularly endearing grin, and threw it onto the cart.

“The bodies?” the portly man beside him said, stopping to scratch his head. “Oh. Yes, I have. Though to be honest, I’m not sure any of them are actually dead.”

“Wait, what?” Biggie sighed. “I swear, Harold, you have got to be literally the worst necromancer I have ever met.”

Harold raised an eyebrow.

“You mean figuratively, Biggie?”

“No, I mean literally! Out of all the necromancers I have ever met, you are the most incompetent of them all.”

“How many have you met?”

“That’s beside the point.”

Harold sucked in his gut and adjusted his overalls.

“Well maybe you should try working the graveyard shift,” he said, “then you can lecture me about how easy it is to tell the living from the dead.”

Biggie just stared at him. Harold was quiet for a moment, then finally shrugged and nodded.

“I’ll check on them again.”

“You do that, Harold,” Biggie said as he threw another skull onto the pile. “The last thing we want is ravenous guests. Anyway, do we have enough here?”

They did a quick count of the skulls.

“Yes, this should do it.”

Biggie grabbed the cart’s handles and began wheeling it away, Harold wobbling alongside him.

“So that’s it for the decorations,” Harold said. “I can’t believe your helldaughter is getting hitched, Biggie. It seems like just yesterday we were inscribing her summoning pentagram.”

“Yeah, they grow up fast, don’t they?” Biggie said. “Her species reaches adulthood in, what, three years?”

“Something like that.”

“Anyway, double-check the bodies, Harold!”

“Yes, Biggie.”