I'm Still Seeing Dead People

Chapter 10: Meddle and Tread Lightly

A/N: The other night (September 6, 2021), I saw the last night of the Hella Mega Tour. I've been to a concert before, but I think Green Day, Fall Out Boy, and Weezer are just slightly cooler than the Trans Siberian Orchestra. Got a swag poster, temporary deafness, and a guitar pick out of it. From where I was seated, I could see the moshpit, I think it was. They had a conga-line going.  Also, I have an idea for the next book. I'll put the idea at the bottom, because I feel like this bit is a little long. 

Jeff had laid Smile out on a tarp in the garage while he dug a grave. He dug a deep grave, at least seven feet. A ladder was needed to get him out. All the while, his eyes betrayed his cheeks. His eyes were red and glossy, like he needed to cry but couldn't. His cheeks said he was the happiest psychopath on earth. 

He walked over to the open garage and grabbed Smile's corpse. His once soft-ish fur was now matted with saliva, blood, and nature. Jeff noticed it, too, and he was less than thrilled. He was probably going to take up hunting now just to get revenge on whatever killed his dog. 

No one said anything as Jeff let Smile's corpse drop into the hole. What were they supposed to say? 'Hey, sorry for your loss. Wanna go to the pound and rescue another homicidal, blood-red, husky?' 

After Smile was laid to rest in the hole, Jeff looked around at the array of characters behind him. 

"Anybody want to do the honors?" He asked, gesturing to the large pile of dirt and shovel beside him. 

"Nah, man. He was your dog. You should do it." Billy spoke up. 

Jeff tried to grimace, but it didn't work out too well. He bent down, picked up the shovel, and sadly began to shovel the dirt back into the hole. 

You watched the odd scene before you, feeling a foreign emotion. It was honestly very confusing to see a forever-smiling man grimace. You watched, intrigued, until you felt something slide into your hand. 

"I'm going to make a start on those headstones. This is getting hard to watch." 

"I'm coming, too." You whispered, following Michael to the garage. 

Michael grabbed some round, wooden logs and a couple sharpie. He tossed you some of the logs and a sharpie before writing down another message. 

"Do Glen and Tiffany. I'll do Charles, Freddy, and Smile." 

You nodded and tossed the paper aside before taking the sharpie and writing out the messages on the headstones. 

__________________________

It was near five in the morning when you and Michael finally finished. It took a ridiculously long time, due to the fact that you were carving the words out with pocket knives and screwdrivers. At some point, you'd fallen asleep. Michael, hell-bent on not having to do all of the work, opened a beer and splashed it on you. So, when you finished, you were tired, sticky, your fingers were sore, and you smelled like a bar. 

"You know, you didn't have to splash me with beer. You should've just opened a bottle of water or something." You grumbled as you planted Glen's headstone into the dirt. 

"Did too. Had to make sure you stayed awake." 

"Well, just keep splashing water at me. Then, I wouldn't have needed to shower. Just change." You replied. 

"Well, you stink anyways." 

"You wanna fight, Myers?" 

Michael dropped the last headstone and turned to face you. He got all up in your business, making sure you saw the size difference. He was quite a bit taller than you, standing at nearly seven feet tall.