Life's rough when you're a ghoul, you know? First there's the change, oh what a bunch of loveliness that is, eh? You're doing something normal, like going to your car or reading a book and boom! Some bint with an overbite comes and sinks his teeth into you. 'Snot very fair, I can tell you that right off.
Then comes the orientation. Evil henchman that, supernatural this, read the employee manual... A bit of a bore, if you don't mind me saying. Oh, and the dress code! Nothin' but grays and whites! Can you believe that? Apparently, our entire job is to walk around, look stupified, and absorb various types of ammunition by means of stopping it with our bodies. We're not even payed! I tell you, I wouldn't mind rightly sticking my foot right up Mr. Angsty's arse, but there's the entire "I'm compelled to obey" bit.
Not much of a health plan, either. I guess that I'm lucky in that I don't get sick anymore, being technically dead and all that, but some dental coverage here and there would be nice. I mean, I've got to use these things for all kinds of biting and chewing now! Does murder on me ol' chompers! Though I guess I couldn't very well just waltz into a dentist office. It'd be, "Have a seat in the chair sir" and they'd pull out that metal pick and start carving away. Then they'd say, "Ah! You obviously haven't been flossing! There's bits of brains, here!" and the gig would be up, eh?
Still, it's not all bad. I particularly like the financial bonuses of being dead, you know? No eating, no need for creature comforts, and you'd be suprised at how relaxing mindlessly slogging through a ruined town can be. Yet, oft times I find myself wishing I were still, you know, alive. Can't have it all, I guess.
