[ OT ] I 'd like to take a moment to appreciate Sir Terry Pratchett .

The procession had long since passed, leaving the street barren and empty. The usual collection of litter and other substances - some of which were probably best left unexamined - had replaced the solemn march of feet. A visitor to the city would have had no idea that a funeral had just taken place... though Sergeant Fred Colon viewed the refuse as being a sign of a respect, a collective promise from the city to go on in the wake of such a terrible loss. 
 
 He sniffed mightily, as though the constant suction of air through his nose might keep the tears from streaming down his face. Beside him, Corporal `` Nobby'' Nobbs kept a pensive silence. 
 
 `` I mean...'' began Fred, seemingly in response to some inner thought, `` that's it, then, innit?'' 
 
 `` What's it, Fred?'' asked Nobby. 
 
 The larger man idly adjusted his ill-fitting armor. `` It's, you know... *death*. It's going to happen. It's coming for us. Only a matter of time now.'' 
 
 Nobby considered this. Although his brain was not particularly well-suited for the task of contemplating anything beyond the existence of jam donuts, the words from his friend had apparently dislodged something in a deep corner of his mind. The internal crack allowed just the barest glint of wisdom to shine through, igniting neural passages that had lain dormant for years. 
 
 `` The way I see it,'' Nobby replied, `` the way I see it is... well, he was dead before, right?'' 
 
 Fred aimed a curious glance downward. `` How do you mean?'' 
 
 `` I mean... I mean before he was born, he was dead, right?'' Nobby nodded along with his own thought. `` It stands to reason. If he's not alive, then he's dead.'' 
 
 `` Supposing he was a zombie, though?'' asked Fred. It was a strange sensation, being on the receiving end of Nobby's wisdom... and yet, not a wholly unpleasant one. `` Zombies are both alive *and* dead.'' 
 
 Nobby nodded. `` Right, Fred, right... but maybe it's like a door? On one side you're dead, on the other you're alive, and zombies do n't have the decency to go all the way through.'' 
 
 `` Blocking it up for all the people just trying to get outside!'' growled Fred. `` Do you suppose that's how zombies come about? Maybe they're all blocked from going outside by one fellow what wo n't make up his mind?'' 
 
 `` Stands to reason!'' 
 
 Fred pounded a fist into his open hand. `` Well, that wo n't do, will it? *Loitering*, that is! We ca n't have a zombie keeping such a *great man* from getting outside, now can we?'' 
 
 `` What're we going to do, Fred?'' asked Nobby. With that question, the universe righted itself, and the glint that had struggled to shine in Nobby's mind snuffed itself out in frustration. 
 
 `` I'll tell you what we're going to do,'' Fred replied. `` We're going to get out there and get those zombies to *move! *'' 
 
 `` Politely, though, Fred?'' 
 
 `` Of course, Nobby,'' Fred answered. `` Of course. No call to go being rude about it. We'll ask politely. Maybe ask them to see reason. Tell them about our friend. Any decent person would move aside, what?'' 
 
 `` Supposing they *aren't* decent, though, Fred?'' 
 
 Sergeant Fred Colon cracked each of his knuckles in sequence, a habit he had n't practiced since... well, it had only been last week, but *this* time was *meaningful*. `` Well, Nobby,'' he said, `` if they are n't decent... we wo n't be either.'' 
 
 The two men puffed up their chests and continued to guard the empty street. 
 
 In the shadows behind them, the transparent figure of a bearded man grinned mischievously.
