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Coblyn mouth3/14/2023 I am more than a little offended by the stereotype portrayed in modern films, and which people such as those at the bus stop whole-heartedly embrace. ![]() ![]() That’s all they said, over and over again, as if I was supposed to stagger toward them with a fork and knife, and start hacking away at their heads. Spoken in a slurred, repugnant voice that was accompanied by fine spray of spittle. “You were telling me about the taunting you experienced recently?” She rolled her eyes and closed the door, leaving me with my client. “I do apologize for the interruption, Tim,” I said in a calm, reassuring voice as I waved a hand at Noelle. “Ahem! Brains!” Tim, new revenant in need of counseling, glared at me. You know how he is about using the flat for business.” Sinclair sees them, he’s going to have a fit. “Well, there’s a group of fuctionally deceased in the hall playing strip poker, and if Mr. The preferred term is revenant, or functionally deceased.” “Yes, I know, and please, Noelle-zombie is so politically incorrect. I sighed, giving my client what I hoped was a reassuringly cheerful smile. “Did you know there’s a small herd of zombies in the hall?” Since she was normally as cute as a button with short, curly red hair, freckles, and a cheerful disposition despite her rather sombre profession, a frown was especially noticeable. “Oh.” The door to the sitting room opened and Noelle stuck her head in, a worried frown puckering her brow. “Tabarnak! Vous parlez a mouthful.” Sally beamed at my client as she wafted past him, through the wall, and into the room beyond. “Elle est right here avec l’sitting chambre du femmes,” Sally, my other flatmate, called out as she drifted through the room. ![]() “One of these days we’re going to get Mr. “Ysabelle?” The front door thumped shut with an audible grunt from Noelle, one of my two flatmates.
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