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No rest for the undead   
03:21pm 12/09/2003
 
mood: cheerful
Thank heavens for Rita. Despite our recent problems, she's realised that Eunice isn't seeing my full potential by offering me positions at undertakers. She's managed to find me a placement in a nice, quiet office. Temporary, granted, but it doesn't involve corpses.

I started on Tuesday and it's exactly what I was looking for. The only problem is I've already broken the photocopier by dropping a finger inside. I did the honest thing and told Barbara the office manager. She told me "Could you please be a little more careful with your loose appendages next time Reg?". Anyway, I managed to get the finger back, unharmed but stained with ink. Barbara has said she won't be asking me to use the paper shredder anytime soon. She seems quite pleased with my work and said that customers on the phone are quite happy to deal with me. As she put it; "You may be undead, Reg, but you still have manners. More than can be said for the YTS lad we had before you. Sullen little bugger".

My only complaint is the canteen. It's the standard fayre, which is all well and good but hardly nutritional to someone in my position. Barbara suggested I tried the stew yesterday. She said she wasn't at all sure that the nameless lumps of meat weren't cranial in origin. Having tried it I can see her point. I think I'm going to fit right in here.		  
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Dead Weekend   
04:43pm 08/09/2003
 
mood: gloomy
I feel this weekend was a bit of a wash-out. Firstly, the Fresh Start club was horrendously quiet. Mr. Ixolite and I had a chat about those notes he's been putting through my door. Schleppel, the shy boogeyman, hid under a chair as usual. I go to the trouble of printing up cards to post in coffins and this is all the Fresh Start Club can muster?

Tried repeated times to call Rita. Either she was out or just refusing to answer the phone. I just wish I knew what, exactly, I'd done wrong. I apologised profusely for losing my fingers in her soup.
Today saw another exciting day at the job centre. Eunice is quite hopeful that she can find me work at an undertakers. Last week a mortician's & now this? I'm living impaired and have no wish to work with the dead. I've given serious consideration to eating Eunice, but I suspect she may already be somewhat lacking in the cranial department.		  
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Living Impaired and seeking work   
01:50pm 05/09/2003
 
mood: discontent
This morning saw me traipsing down to the job centre again. Trying to flag down a bus can be very trying, especially when your arm drops off mid-wave. It would seem that people dislike sharing a seat with the living impaired.

After last night's debacle, Rita had refused to see me. Instead, her co-worker Eunice dealt with me. I was mortified, and probably would have blushed but that's a tad hard for someone in my circumstances, when Eunice handed me my left pinky (to be truthful, I hadn't noticed it's abscence) with the comment "Rita says you left this in her napkin".

Apparently, I am unsuitable for manual labour. No one really wants to find a stray limb in the cement mix. Fast food outlets, we know from previous experience, are totally out of the question. Personally, I feel I would be most suited to a nice office job. Eunice suggested a mortician's.

Fear not friends, for Reg Shoe will find gainful employment.

Note to self; at the next "Fresh Start Club" meeting, have a word with the banshee, Mr. Ixolite (a rather shy chap who refuses to wail. Instead, he posts notes when someone is to meet their demise), about posting his notes through my door. I am already, technically speaking, dead.		  
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Even 'Nice' Girls want Warm Blood...   
04:07am 05/09/2003
 
mood: gloomy
Well, after a lot of cajoling I finally managed to get Rita to accompany me to Uncle Slimey's 'All you can stand' Buffet and crematorium. The night started well and I thought that maybe here is a lass I could share my "extended" life with. It seemed to be going well right until I ordered :@"BRAINS!!!!!"£$$"£! for starters, this seemed to put the (as now I know unaccepting) Rita on the turn. The next problem arose when the waiter, who I can only assume was trying to be funny, brought a finger bowl which I promptly deposited my ring finger into, personally I thought this a romantic gesture, as what more can a zombie say (Yes I said Zombie, and I'm Proud) to show commitment than this simple gesture. The look on her face seemed to say all I have been telling my friends down at the 'Fresh Start Club'.

My Heart no longer beats but it doesn't mean it cannot get hurt!

I wouldn't have minded as much but on top of the dismissal by Mr Gertflax from the role of secretary of the 'Really Brainy Club' just for treating potential members to the tried and tested "Reg Shoe Taste Test" it seemed a bit too much. Now I feel I may understand why some folk choose to just lie in their coffins!		  
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The undead seize the internet   
03:53am 05/09/2003
 
mood: chipper
Good evening. My name is Reg Shoe & this is my first entry. I am keeping this journal to educate people about the plight of the undead. You see, I am a zombie. I woke up one day and knew something wasn't right when I realised I had no pulse or heartbeat.

At the moment I am seeking gainful employment. It would seem that prejudice against the undead is rife, as the lovely Rita (yes, I hold a candle in my withered, unbeating heart) at the job centre has difficulty in finding me a suitable position. I suppose the regular loss of limbs may well put off potential employers. My last job at the local fried chicken outlet was suddenly terminated when I kept dropping my fingers in the value meal buckets. And then there was the issue of my incessant attempted consummation of the clientele.

Do not let this put you off however. Even the "Life impaired" need friends (undead is such a crude term). I do hope we can become friends.		  
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