right," Caine grumbled, as he stalked down the stairs. "They'll method act themselves all the way to a hefty fine if they don't get out of this house soon."
Mike turned to Abby, trying not to laugh. "C'mon. Let's round up the shambling undead and get out of here."
He followed her down the hallway towards the back staircase. "Why did you kick me?" he asked, once Caine was out of earshot. "I was just trying—"
"Caine's the biggest gossip in town," Abby interrupted, a slight blush tinting her cheeks. "If he finds out that we were making out in the attic, it will be all over town in a nanosecond."
"Oh." He didn't know what to say to that.
"And the ties don't hurt at all," she said, smiling in a conciliatory manner.
Well that was a relief.
"I guess you've done this before," she continued, her smile turning mischievous,
The question startled him. "Um," he paused, trying to think of an accurate yet non-incriminatory response. "Not for recreational purposes."
That made her laugh. Her chortling made the jacket shift around her shoulders, uncovering her cleavage. He cleared his throat and tried to come up with a distraction.
"Is the town really mounting an anti-paranormal campaign?" he asked.
"Nah." She crouched to avoid a fake spider web. "That's just Caine being paranoid. The Historical Restoration Committee has a lot of rules and regulations, but the rules don't say anything about ghosts. They do have a lot to say about moldings and light fixtures and stuff like that. That's the reason the buildings are in such great shape." She gave an exasperated sigh. "It's also the reason why it took twenty-four weeks to get the paint colors approved for my house."
He had to concur. The town, in spite of the lingering economic malaise, did look nice. The buildings were well kept and the architectural styles were coherent. There was something to be said for rules and regulations. They kept things looking neat and organized.
"They were the ones who saved this house," Abby continued, sidestepping a sitting skeleton outfitted in pirate regalia. "A couple of developers wanted to buy it and tear it down, but the Historical Preservation regulations didn't allow it. The buyers held several town meetings, trying to get the regulation struck down, but the Committee stood firm."
He nodded. These Historical Preservation Committee folks sounded like his kind of people.
"So, yeah," Abby went on. "The Committee is a big deal in this town. They do a lot of good."
Mike agreed wholeheartedly. Rules were good. In fact, they were the only thing standing between us and chaos. The Historical Preservation Committee was definitely on the right track.
"Too bad everyone hates them," Abby concluded, finally reaching the back staircase.
That took him aback. "Everyone?" he asked plaintively.
Abby nodded. "With the passion of a thousand burning suns."
A group of raggedy youths in gray makeup wandered up and down the stairs. A young girl with a plastic axe stuck in her head looked up and saw them.
"Braaaaaaains," she moaned as she shuffled towards them.
Abby didn't flinch.
"Can it, Nora," she said firmly. "Brains is what you're going to need to get out of the fine Fire & Rescue will impose if you don't get out of here now."
The group moaned in a distinctly un-zombie-like fashion and Zombie Nora grimaced.
"Oh man," she wailed. "Not another fine. I'm still paying the one I got for that graveyard display on my yard."
Mike flinched. He guessed that the yard display fine was from the Historical Preservation Committee. Zombie Nora must be one of the "thousand burning suns" people. He watched as the group trudged down the stairs, muttering restlessly.
"It's my yard, isn't it?" Mike heard Nora argue. "If I want to hang shrunken heads from my cherry blossom tree, then that's my business, isn't it?"
A guy in a bloody shirt agreed. Someone suggested creating a Zombie Libertarian Party. The suggestion was greeted with hearty
Mike turned to Abby, trying not to laugh. "C'mon. Let's round up the shambling undead and get out of here."
He followed her down the hallway towards the back staircase. "Why did you kick me?" he asked, once Caine was out of earshot. "I was just trying—"
"Caine's the biggest gossip in town," Abby interrupted, a slight blush tinting her cheeks. "If he finds out that we were making out in the attic, it will be all over town in a nanosecond."
"Oh." He didn't know what to say to that.
"And the ties don't hurt at all," she said, smiling in a conciliatory manner.
Well that was a relief.
"I guess you've done this before," she continued, her smile turning mischievous,
The question startled him. "Um," he paused, trying to think of an accurate yet non-incriminatory response. "Not for recreational purposes."
That made her laugh. Her chortling made the jacket shift around her shoulders, uncovering her cleavage. He cleared his throat and tried to come up with a distraction.
"Is the town really mounting an anti-paranormal campaign?" he asked.
"Nah." She crouched to avoid a fake spider web. "That's just Caine being paranoid. The Historical Restoration Committee has a lot of rules and regulations, but the rules don't say anything about ghosts. They do have a lot to say about moldings and light fixtures and stuff like that. That's the reason the buildings are in such great shape." She gave an exasperated sigh. "It's also the reason why it took twenty-four weeks to get the paint colors approved for my house."
He had to concur. The town, in spite of the lingering economic malaise, did look nice. The buildings were well kept and the architectural styles were coherent. There was something to be said for rules and regulations. They kept things looking neat and organized.
"They were the ones who saved this house," Abby continued, sidestepping a sitting skeleton outfitted in pirate regalia. "A couple of developers wanted to buy it and tear it down, but the Historical Preservation regulations didn't allow it. The buyers held several town meetings, trying to get the regulation struck down, but the Committee stood firm."
He nodded. These Historical Preservation Committee folks sounded like his kind of people.
"So, yeah," Abby went on. "The Committee is a big deal in this town. They do a lot of good."
Mike agreed wholeheartedly. Rules were good. In fact, they were the only thing standing between us and chaos. The Historical Preservation Committee was definitely on the right track.
"Too bad everyone hates them," Abby concluded, finally reaching the back staircase.
That took him aback. "Everyone?" he asked plaintively.
Abby nodded. "With the passion of a thousand burning suns."
A group of raggedy youths in gray makeup wandered up and down the stairs. A young girl with a plastic axe stuck in her head looked up and saw them.
"Braaaaaaains," she moaned as she shuffled towards them.
Abby didn't flinch.
"Can it, Nora," she said firmly. "Brains is what you're going to need to get out of the fine Fire & Rescue will impose if you don't get out of here now."
The group moaned in a distinctly un-zombie-like fashion and Zombie Nora grimaced.
"Oh man," she wailed. "Not another fine. I'm still paying the one I got for that graveyard display on my yard."
Mike flinched. He guessed that the yard display fine was from the Historical Preservation Committee. Zombie Nora must be one of the "thousand burning suns" people. He watched as the group trudged down the stairs, muttering restlessly.
"It's my yard, isn't it?" Mike heard Nora argue. "If I want to hang shrunken heads from my cherry blossom tree, then that's my business, isn't it?"
A guy in a bloody shirt agreed. Someone suggested creating a Zombie Libertarian Party. The suggestion was greeted with hearty
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