Spotlights irradiated the skeletal forms striding down the catwalk. His calciferous teeth gritted.

One donned a polyester coat. Too short. Insufficiently dark.

Another wore a black bikini. Ribcage was barely covered.

He swept out, his thick cloak fluttering, the scythe in his ossifying grip. At least nuclear war was approaching.

Joey tries to write a little. You can find him and abuse him at joeytoey.com.