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Los Chimpos Ride Again

He holds the message out and you take it gingerly from his decaying grasp.

"Right then, guv," he says, suddenly cheerful. "I've done me job, twice if you like because I did try sliding the message under your door too, so I'm offski."

"Erm," you stare at him. "You seem rather... verbose... for a zombie?"

"Yeah," he laughs, coughing violently and stooping even lower. "I get that a lot. You'd be surprised the grief I get, looking like one of the bleedin' walking dead! My landlady tried impaling me with a snooker cue last night, the silly bint!"

"Erm," you look around to see if this is a prank. "You're... dead though, right?"

"Oh, yeah, pal," he chuckles, a bit of dry skin flaking off of his neck. "Mr D Evans is the name, general dogsbody and errand boy is the game! Haha, Evans errands! I like that. Should put that on a business card. You got a pen?"

"Erm," you stare in confusion and the zombie shrugs.

"Ah, no worries pal, forget about it!" He makes a clumsy salute. "Message delivered, I'm off. You take care!"
He turns on his heel and stumbles away and falls down the stairs with a crash.
"I'm alright, mate!" he yells from the bottom. "See ya!"