Look Lively Now

       "Look lively now." said a ragged old corpse to his troops. Half of his face was missing and the glow from his cigarette made the pristine bone underneath shine in the inky blackness of the crypt. He wore a mottled military coat with medals that suggested he was a captain. His mustache, despite being tremendous in life, had grown gray and had mostly fallen out, leaving him with a few whiskers that made the other skeletons chuckle. His squad was made up of only the cemetery's finest; he had hand picked each one with a dead chaplain's hand.
They were on a mission. The grave keeper had just finished making his rounds and was now sitting on his porch drinking, crying, and mourning his wife. "Great waterfalls," Scout Whistle had reported, "Enough to fill the Thames twice!" The other corpses had laughed at the old man's sorrow, but Captain had silenced them with a stare. "Respect the living." He said simply. The skeletons begrudgingly complied, though twice the captain had caught a pair snickering.
Captain checked his pocket watch. The watch was ancient and rusted, and had missing gears and no minute hand. Strangely the device still worked, and no one except Captain knew how to read it. "One o'clock," he said, putting out his cigarette "Whistle should be back any minute." And as he finished his sentence, the scout came crawling through the hole in the wall. He stumbled as his foot caught on a root and he was sprawled out in front of Captain.
"The old geezer's gone ter sleep, sir!"
"Don't call him that. Now, did he leave the door unlocked?"
"I reckon he did, sir. He was as drunk as an arse in a-"
Captain kicked Whistle's head, sending it flying towards the adjacent wall.
"Oh c'mon, sir" the head clacked, "Twas just a joke, sir. An innocent little remark on another man's stupidity, sir."
"Respect the living." Captain moved to the crypt entrance as Whistle reattached himself. It was a large steel door, fashioned with all sorts of gothic accoutrements. Despite being designed to keep plunderers out, time had withered away the locks and hinges to the point that, if one wished to, one could hire a large and burly person to simply give the door a shove and it would open. Captain pushed on the door lightly, for it was not locked from the inside, and he peered his one eye up at the grave keepers sleeping form. Turning back to the assembled corpses, he said, "It's time." and opened the doorway, beckoning them through.
The skeletons marched and shambled up the hill towards the grave keeper's house. They gathered around the porch and readied themselves. Captain, who had a bad limp and no big toe on his left foot, took a little longer to reach his squad, and when he did, he ushered them into the house. Two corpses had stayed behind, however and gestured towards the old man sleeping on the porch.
"Can't we pull a little prank on him, sir?" one said.
"Yea maybe scare 'em a bit!" said the other.
Captains withering stare was reply enough, and the two stragglers glumly entered the house. Shaking his head, Captain followed and found a chair by the hearth to sit in.  It was an old house, and the floorboards creaked and groaned as if to say "Please kill me."
        Once everyone was inside, Captain gave them a wave and the party began.

        Skeletons clacked with glee and shuffled around the house. A large group formed to play cards, and several raided the old man's wine cellar. They cheered and whooped and drank, the wine sloshing down their ribcages. A couple of corpses hung themselves from the rafters and tried to knock the each other down. The skeletons playing cards grew angry and began to fight, crashing into cabinets and spilling wine. One zombie found a guitar and began to play a raucous tune, while another found an old rifle and began shooting the fighting card players. One skeleton bowled with his head while another used his femurs as pins. Several times someone was pinned beneath a dresser to the amusement of the others, and their laughter would resound throughout the countryside.
Through all of this the old man slept, as he had slept through the other nights.
Captain sat and watched his troops, occasionally clacking his foot to the tune of the guitar. He never partook in the frivolities of his squad, but he knew that they needed them. Morale was an issue when you spent most of your time six feet under ground. He checked his pocket watch after a few hours. Dawn was approaching fast. He stood and the other skeletons immediately ceased making noise. He signaled them that it was time to go, and they began to make for the door.
"Excuse me." Captain said loudly, "Aren't we forgetting something?" He gestured towards the mess.
With a clearly audible grumble, the troops shuffled around the creaky house, picking up dressers and mopping up spilt wine. Holes were boarded over, tables were fixed, cards were picked up, and heads were removed from boots. After a while, the house was spotless. Things were certainly moved around and patched up shoddily, but the grave keeper was old, and probably wouldn't notice; he hadn't yet.
When the captain had finished his inspection he pointed towards the door and his troops filed out. He gave the house one last scan and then limped out the door.

The first rays of sunlight were peeking over the horizon, and the marching ghouls regarded its beauty as they returned to their dark resting places. Captain stood on the porch and watched the sunrise, stroking his withered mustache. His empty eye socket and exposed skull looked less menacing when exposed to sunlight. He turned his gaze to the slumbering old man. He looked pitiful; his empty bottle hung loosely in his left hand, while in the other he held a photograph of his wife set in a beautiful frame. Captain gingerly removed the bottle from the old man's hand and placed it gently on the ground. Then, he took the picture frame and placed it in the old man's lap so that it wouldn't fall and shatter. After closing the sleeping man's fingers around the frame, he turned his back on the house and limped towards the crypt.
"Respect the living," Captain muttered to the sun, "Even though they don't respect us."