Cincinnati Morgue, An Equal-opportunity Service Since 1966.

Death And Blood Didn’t Turn On A Vampire. Fear And The Chance To Take Blood Did. There Was A Difference.

I Just Want My Name Back So My Life Can Go Back To Chaotic And Weird Instead Of Chaotic And Desperate.

...everyone Had To Eat, But Eating People Wasn't Polite.

I Have A Name,” I Grumped, My Stomach Pinching Me Harder. “yes, But It Has No Pizzazz. Ra-a-a-a-chel. Rach-e-e-e-eel,” He Said, Trying It Out In Different Ways. “no One Will Tremble In Terror At That. Oh My God!” He Said In A High Falsetto. “it’s Rachel! Run! Hide!

God, It Stinks,” I Said, Hand Over My Nose As He Pulled Me Into A Long Step. Al Strode Forward, Head High. “it’s The Stench Of Bureaucracy, My Itchy-witch, And Why I Chose To Go Into Human Resources When But A Wee Lad.