Bill’s ‘speech’ turned out to be nothing more than him shouting about aliens, and flipping off anyone who bothered to show up. In the crowd, Shark was probably the only one who didn’t look particularly aghast at this.
Nearby, Shark then caught sight of his Uncle Dudley, and breathed a sigh of relief. Dudley just looked on himself with an expression of disturbed resignation.
“Do people actually want to vote for him,” Shark said to anyone who cared to listen, “or are they just here to watch him make an ass of himself?”
“Catch Grandpa the stick, puppy!” Dennis could be heard shouting as he played fetch with Sagebear. “Catch Grandpa the stick!”
The others watched as Sagebear dashed across the yard, all the while eating the hot dogs Dudley had grilled for them. Dennis himself held one in his hand as he waited for Sagebear to get back.
“He certainly loves that dog, it seems,” Alma said when her mouth wasn’t full. Next to her, Dudley nodded.
Annette was still dumbfounded by the table that had been rather carelessly put into the room she shared with The Builder.
Grabbing a leg, she pulled at the cloth that seemed to be stitched at the ends. Something about it seemed weirdly human.
She then patted around the rest of the table, trying to figure out what it was made of. Trying to lift it proved worthless. It was much too heavy.
Annette held her bloody nose as she tried crawling away from the man before her.
“Maybe I should have brought Ox-Head with me after all,” she muttered to herself as she tried to escape. In order to buy herself time, she tried to reason with him.
(Illness be damned, I’m posting this fucking chapter)
(Warning! Uh…Hoo boy…You’ll see when you get there. Just brace yourself)
“All right, Baron von Chugsalot. Down the hatch,” The Builder said as they stirred the concoction around in a glass. The recently reanimated zombie didn’t resist as his head was tilted back, and the cocktail was poured down his opened mouth.
Sticking their tongue out in focus, The Builder made certain that they didn’t spill anything. For special measure, they rubbed his throat to make sure it went down.
(Warning! Look, The Builder is in this, so I bet you know what the warning’s going to be)
“It isn’t fair!” Moony whined as he flung a frying pan across the kitchen. Sunny sat a good distance away, obediently waiting for him to calm down.
He continued to lament his so-called woes. “Salad Olivier? That’s practically the only thing I couldn’t get right back when I was alive! Then she has to show up and make it perfectly!”
Then Moony threw a pot in Sunny’s direction, with Sunny quickly ducking out of the way.
(Warning! Desecration of a dead body in various ways!)
Despite being so thin and bony, The Builder hardly felt the chill in the air. Carrying their tools on their back, they trudged up the road to the planned location.
“Let’s see…If I were a useless dead whiner, where would I be buried?” A quick scan of the area made the answer known quickly.
“Ah…Here you are!” When they reached the gravestone, they ran their hands over the cold stone. “Kind of elegant for a guy that offed himself, but…”