“They’re coming to get you, Barbra!”

“Oh, quiet Johnny! I hate cemeteries!”

The older sibling’s gibes continued as they walked towards the cemetery gate.

Suddenly, the two stopped in their tracks when they heard a monstrous noise, not unlike that of an avocado being squashed by two weights.

They turned around in a perfectly simultaneous pivot, with copy and pasted expressions on their faces to look at the largest horde of pilgrim zombies they had ever seen.

“Barbra, why on earth did Dad have to be buried at an old Puritan church?”

Barbra answered with a scream, and ran towards the siblings form of transportation: a tandem bicycle.

Unfortunately, one of the undead pilgrims didn’t let her get away, and shot her with a blow gun he had stolen from an Indian before being shot by another Indian.

Johnny look around frantically, and picked up the handy machine gun lying next to him, and fired away.

He wiped his brow and looked at all the re-dead pilgrims.

“Can’t believe I forgot it was Thankgiving.”