Lawrence didn’t need to read the crumpled green paper that was flapping in his face. He knew damn well what it said. He didn’t bother listening to the irate woman shaking the pamphlet in front of his nose like a maraca; he knew what she said too.

“I’ll take care of them, ma’am. I’ll get right on it.” When this didn’t seem to satisfy her he held out his hand, palm up. “I’ll start with that one.”

She slapped it down like an accusation and released him. Lawrence sighed.

Things were getting worse.

He crumpled the flyer and headed across the cemetery. In the distance he could see the woman retreating, still shouting to a husband that was also incapable of calming her. For the third time of the week he retrieved his poking-stick and a trash bag. With a long sigh he stopped and surveyed the job.

Row after row stood before him, each tombstone with a flapping green paper taped to it. Many had blown loose and littered the ground like leaves, but most were stubborn and clung to the rocks like shipwrecked sailors. Others had been stapled to trees. Some were rolled up and stuck into the little holes that flowers were supposed fill. The windswept stragglers accumulated along the rod iron fence as if they were over-sized fall leaves come early; giant green rectangular leaves. It would take him all day to round them up.

Again.

He bent over and yanked one off. He rubbed at the masking tape with his thumbnail, peeling it away from the smooth marble. The page read: 

TIRED OF BEING A CORPSE?
OF COURSE YOU ARE!
VOTE MINDY MORGAN
2018 RESURRECTION PARTY CANDIDATE

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A graveyard caretaker contends with a very strange intruder in this darkly humorous bit of weird fiction. Sign up and check it out!

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