Already the ground had been smoothed over and resodded. Henderson Rudolpho Henderson examined the disturbing sight with much interest. How could they just pretend like nothing had happened here? Yet he knew they must, as this operation would affect the very fate of every single member of the Grave Diggers Anonymous Society.
"HENDERSON!" The voice of Mr. Henderson's ex-stepnephew called. "How exactly do you explain this SHODDY workmanship?"
"well, son, we had a problem with the oversized termites that frequent these parts," he shot back. His ex-stepnephew (who was named Robert Mac) brandished the shovel handle riddled with holes at Henderson.
"Woah, kid," he pulled up his hand, "What are you thinking?"
"All the shovels are like this Henderson!" he protested.
"Looks like you need to go out and buy some new shovels then! It can't be that hard!!"
"Don't even get me started on the condition of our wooden hoes and rakes to smooth the grass out, it's practically unspeakable, uncle." He sneered at Henderson.
Henderson snatched the shovel out of his ex-stepnephew hands and promptly began to dig, but as soon as the shovel hit the ground, the handle eroded. Henderson shook his head, glad that his ex-stepnephew was an "ex-" so the shame didn't reflect too closely to his family.
The Henderson family has a long history of a crazily good ability to grow very impressive facial hair, a trait that they (men AND women) are quite proud of. That was why Robert was an "ex-" after all, because of his smooth, shiny chin and, incidentally, head. Henderson stroked his long beard that went all the way down to his knees as he remembered his great-grandpa, who never shaved his beard in his entire life. Henderson stroked his almost equally impressive beard and mustache with great pleasure. He lathered it daily with conditioner made of lizard scales to ensure the ultimate silkiness of the gray strands of curly facial hair.
"Henderson?" The deep booming voice of Joseph, the self appointed leader of the Grave Diggers Anonymous Society, came from behind Henderson.
"Yessir?" Henderson asked, turning with sass toward his boss.
As he turned, he noticed that there was a man standing there with a gun to Joseph's head. In a sudden burst of heroism, or maybe stupidity, I flung the shovel I was holding at the mysterious attacker. It missed by a long-shot, and the boom of a gun made the ground shake. Joseph's head was blown to bits and I shuddered as a piece of his brain landed on the tip of my nose. Time to dig another grave, Henderson supposed.
But, there was still the problem of the eroded shovels. But wait, why exactly was Joseph's brain purple anyways? Henderson bent over, noticing the unfortunate smell of grapes which filled the air around Joseph's body. Henderson picked up a purple ball, which was a piece of his brain, and stuck it in his mouth. The taste was incredible; Henderson's mind went blank as he sighed in ecstasy. In the background Robert stared on, disgusted, and decided to end the life of his unfortunate ex-stepuncle. The man slumped over after being hit by a completely metal pick ax which Robert had on hand, and Robert stole into the night, hoping to never again encounter anything grape ever again. THE END.
