Hi. I'm a tour guide. No... Well, that's my part-time job. My main job involves taking well-dressed stiffs on their last ride before they end up 6 under. It's like taxi driving; only difference is the customer doesn't complain about your driving. Too bad they don't tip though. You see, thanks to my job I get to see cemeteries a lot. So, to make a buck when the dirty old men aren't dying of Viagra overdoses, I give tourists tours of the final resting places of the rich and famous. Oh, it's a fun job. You get to see the silly people photographing gravestones like they were stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Once in a while one of them gets a ghost in the photo. Well, they think they did...
Of course, that's not the whole truth yet. You see, this might be a rich neighbourhood I work in, but it's not exactly a great tourist trap. And no thanks to modern medical science, I don't quite get enough passengers in my backseat to pay my bills. So... for a suitable fee, I give special tours to those with special "needs"...
Wherever rich kids with more money and time than sense are to be found, you can be sure there's a few of them with a fantasy that's not quite normal. Well, it's fine by me; everything's just a business. Not that I personally enjoy digging up the dead, but hey - if it pays the bills.
Anyway, on to the real story. You see, this kid got wind from some unscrupulous ex-customer of mine that I know the graveyard real well. So he kind of made me a proposition; I had to tell him when a cute chick is riding with my black car. I assume he'd done every living female under 30 in the area and was getting bored, so he wanted to try his hand at a real cold bitch. You can't say I didn't try to talk him out of it though...
"You sure you want this?"
"Hell, it's cool, right?"
"Mmm... you've never seen a corpse after the rigor mortis has set in son?"
"Dude, I don't drive dead people around like you do."
"Shush, I went to med school... just never finished it. Dead girls... well, they're cold, and they're all tensed up, and generally they smell worse than your prick after anal sex."
"That's why you're gonna find me a fresh one, man!"
I sensed at that point there was no talking the guy out of it.
"I can show you one... no promises, since I don't know when one's gonna kick the bucket... but you're gonna dig her up buddy."
"Heh, you'll at least help out right? I *am* paying you big money for this."
"Oh well, sure. I'll drop you a line sometime."
And so some time passed, and I did my usual rounds of driving 90-year old millionaires and Japanese tourists around the stone garden. Ah, but then where would the fun be if I didn't have to make the phone call?
"Yo."
"It's you, old dude! I thought you might've joined some of your passengers, man! You didn't call..."
"Well, I don't think you'd have been interested in some of my recent passengers... those old guys look like dried-up mummies... But yeah, back to the point, there's a nice one coming in tomorrow morning. Supposed to be a sweet young thing... died of a heart attack for some reason, so she's still all pretty and everything. You wanna do it?"
"Ooh, sounds like a good deal old man. You gonna meet me tomorrow night at the gate?"
"Yeah, and bring a spade. And put on some perfume. You don't want to go home smelling like a dead guy."
He turned up on time, dressed rather inconspicuously for a rich kid. I guess he wasn't all teenage maniac; the guy had sense to put on some clothes that would make him hard to recognise. And he looked pretty strong.
I drove him to a newly covered grave, the soil still damper than the rest around it. We spent around 2 hours digging up the coffin. The soft earth certainly helped.
We opened the coffin carefully, and wow, my young companion was impressed. The girl certainly hadn't been dead for more than two days, and her skin shone like a pearl in the moonlight. I led the way to an empty catacomb nearby as the young necrophiliac wannabe carried her over his shoulder.
"Dude, you sure she's dead? She looks better than most of the girls I've slept with!"
"Err... I don't know whether to doubt your nose or your taste, young man..."
"Oh well, my good luck. You weren't lying, she's one looker. She's still all nice and soft too... what happened to that rigor stuff you were talking about?"
I muttered something about looking out for the gravestones and opened the door to the little stone room. Conveniently, there was a stone pedestal in the middle of it that looked like some other perverts might've attempted some demonic rituals on it, but it would serve well for our purposes.
