Red Flag

I like walking through graveyards. They’re peaceful places. There’s something so quiet about people that are dead. They make no demands. They’re so relaxed.

But then yesterday as I was striding through the cemetery and walked past a grave I heard, “Psssst, hey, over here.”

I went to the grave and looked around and saw no one. But then from below the ground I heard, “I’m down here.”

I said, “What’s up?”

The voice from the grave said, “I was wondering if you can do something for me?”

I said, “It depends.” I used to always say, “Sure” when people asked me to do them a favor. But then I changed my mind when I subbed one day for a friend at the animal husbandry farm.

The voice from the grave said, “I need to go and take care of a few things. Can you please dig me up and then save my space while I step out for a few hours?”

I said, “Are you sure it will only be a few hours?”

The voice from the grave said, “Probably not even that long.”

As I was digging up the dirt with my hands I thought I would end up regretting this, but it’s hard to say no when someone says please.

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