For some reason, Zombies love wedding veils. Maybe it's a snare mechanism, much like how Venus flytraps look beautiful on the outside before they devour their prey. Or maybe it's some attachment to the things that matter in life, that is, in non-Zombie life. In any case, this one had fooled that part of Ricky that had been longing for companionship of any sort. He had been holed away with canned beans, month-old cooked rice, and a shotgun for far too long not to feel the pangs of desire as she approached him from the woods.

Big mistake.

She lurched at him as he approached her and pinned him on the ground, trying to bite at his face. While she had him pinned, another Zombie, this one in a plaid hunter's outfit and coveralls - the stereotypcial Zombie garb, almost as common as capes for vampires - grabbed his leg and bit at him. He managed to gain control of his shotgun in just this moment. First he knocked the veiled Zombie off of him, looked at her on the ground, murmured something witty about sex and marriage, just to kill the awfulness of it all, and then blew her brains out, veil and all. Then he looked at the coverall Zombie, who was now righting himself, murmured something about the farm, and then shot this one as well. He returned to his cabin where his baked beans resided. Somehow, he wasn't very hungry for beans. Damn, he said to himself, knowing what came next.