[ WP ] Upon giving birth , human females always die , giving the title `` mother '' a new meaning .

Motherfuckers, they called us, but by my own gauge, that was n't quite right. We were n't all too interested in the bodies: most of them were really best described as rancid. However, the sparkling insets on golden chains around a rotting neck, the glittering gold leafing wrapped so gently around an wrist too shriveled to hold it, it made the name for us so trivial, most of us did n't care. 
 
 And before you get to criticizing us from your high horse, we still made sure to treat the rotting fleshbuckets with the utmost respect. We would only break off the arms or ribs for particularly stubborn corpses that refused to part with treasure they would never use, and we always made sure to only dig up graves of those that had been laying there for a good many years, long enough that people would n't remember them. They deserved our greatest level of respect as, after all, they were at one point our mother. 
 
 Now, myself? I lived alone on the bottom flat of a four story building. If you expected me to have pale skin, I would say you had your good guess. No, I'm a bit more sharp than that. I do n't do the job of a motherfucker every night, not with the treasures we unearthed. I made sure to make myself plenty tan - but not too tan. Just enough to look like someone that's too meek to go outside, but goes outside just enough to get by. Normal, essentially. Normal is what lets you get by the Maternity's screening, lets you live free and do whatever you want - as long as you keep your pants on. 
 
 Lucky me, I was n't too into those sort of things. No, most of my free time I spent on model planes and rockets, learning about how they work, and how they leave the ground. Ironic for a gravedigger like me, is n't it? To be obsessed with the sky, yet have a living literally stuck down six feet in the earth. It brought a wry smirk to my face every time I think about it. 
 
 Now, the rest of us, the Motherfuckers, supposedly we were n't just about repossessing treasure from those beyond the mortal plane. Apparently we were also about something else, some lofty ideal about breaking against what was established. I did n't really care for it too well. What we did was simple: find a grave of a Mother long gone, any grave really since there were so many, crack open the cask like a pistachio, and pull out the glorious golden leaves and embedded jewels. I was content. 
 
 And this lasted for a pretty good while.
