“I have been dead for three years,” I began. Looking over the rotting faces of my audience, I swallowed. “I may not look it,” I smiled, “but embalming has come a long way since you were buried. Now, for three years, I have lived, or died, like the rest of you, mostly coming out, when I do, at night, avoiding the living at all costs; really, hardly leaving the cemetery, hardly leaving my coffin. I had hoped to retire to private life—er, repose, after my demise, but I feel something needs to be said and done, regarding this crisis.”
The Politician Never Dies
Tale Told 