Anything But Zombies by Gerald Rice

affect the contest, we’re still on track.”
    â€œJonah, a man just committed suicide in one of your fryers. I’m not sure I could even work in a store where a man died, much less be expected to run it properly. What if you find brains in the fryer?”
    â€œNew fryers, probably. I don’t know how these things work exactly, but there’s probably a rule or something.” Jonah made a note to look it up.
    â€œI just couldn’t do it. The sorrow, the sadness, the restless spirit. The specter of that poor man, wandering eternity in your store, unable to find peace. I wouldn’t be able to work there.”
    â€œWell, in that case, Michael, you’d better go along to your own store and work as hard as you can. I sort of understand why you would do things differently—you don’t run our store.” He opened the front door, as confident as ever: a man about to entice someone to leave without saying another word.
    On the front step was the large German shepherd. He looked from Michael to Jonah and wagged his tail.
    Michael froze. “Is that your dog?”
    Jonah said, “No, I think it belongs to a neighbor, but he hangs around a lot. I like the company.”
    Michael sidled past the dog, onto the front porch and onto the walkway. He replaced his hat and quick-walked it down the front walk. “I can send over one of our priests to bless the new fryer.”
    â€œReally not necessary,” Jonah said as he searched for the dog’s identification. There was no collar or tags. “Thanks, anyway, Michael. We’ll be fine.”
    When Michael drove away Jonah asked his mother, “Mom, whose dog is this?” She was in the kitchen removing hot loaves from the oven.
    â€œWhich dog, dear—the Newfoundland? The one that looks like a bear? Avoid that one, dear, he looks dangerous.”
    â€œNo, the Doberman. You said you saw a Doberman this morning. It’s still a German shepherd and now he’s on the porch.”
    â€œIs that what I said? I don’t remember, dear, but he probably belongs to a neighbor.” Her voice trailed off and Jonah knew she was probably headed to the basement for laundry or canning or whatever it was she did when she went down there.
    He thought about looking for a neighbor but decided for the moment to let the dog in and give him a bite to eat. “Want something to eat, boy?” Jonah led the dog into the kitchen. His mother was humming to herself in the basement, so he didn’t have to worry about being scolded for dirtying a dish for a dog. He reached for a saucer and placed baloney and cheese from the fridge in it. He set it down and watched as the dog ate a little and then curled up on a mat in front of the stove.
    The evening brought a steady stream of visitors from Burgeropolis, all employees, some in tears.
    â€œHear, dear,” said his mother as she handed over small loaves of bread wrapped in foil.
    The small group gathered in the living room. They sat on the couch and in the two easy chairs. The piano bench was pulled out and three butts competed for space.
    â€œWill it be soon?” asked Bethany. She was a small girl with curly black hair and a piercing the kids called a Marilyn. Jonah supposed she fancied herself a Betty Boop lookalike, but then reckoned she had no idea who Betty Boop was. Bethany was elbowed hard by Chrissy, who was taller, paler, and had a haircut that made her look like a severely pissed off elf. Bethany mouthed, “Ow!” and rubbed her ribs.
    â€œI’m pretty sure we’ll all get paid,” said Jonah. “I mean, I don’t know this, it’s not my store”— yet , he thought—“but if I know our manager, there shouldn’t be any missed paychecks. I’m sure this closure is just temporary and you’ll probably be paid for the hours you were scheduled to work.” He felt weird speaking for their manager, but figured his