Lammy's Backstory

    My hand shook as it rubbed the rough, cold tombstone that displayed my name. The Grim Reaper stared from the black hood that framed his bare skull, as his boney fingers reached toward me until his hand rested on my protruding stomach.  I became pregnant sometime after my Death when my friends cried over my casket out of my sight because it was closed. I had been burned in a fire that I started, quite by accident. I sat in the midst of a circle of candles chanting from a book, which caught fire. Then my clothes began to blaze as well as the house. The heat and flames left me quite a mess and not at all presentable for viewing. So there my stiff body lay in the dark only able to hear their sobbing.
    I stood in the cemetery after my resurrection and breathed the fresh air deeply, drinking it in like a drunk with his wine as The Grim Reaper gently patted my stomach. I was alive again, but things had changed since my death. Now I carried the Reaper’s child soon to be released upon the unsuspecting world to wreak havoc. The Reaper seemed to slowly float backward, away from me fading into the darkness of the cemetery when I heard soft footfalls nearing me.  I turned to see a mouth wide open on a bearded face of someone in a dress. It was Murrey Magdalene!
    She gently hugged me and kissed my cheek as tears swelled in my eyes with gladness to see him. She hugged me tightly, then backed off upon sensing my delicate condition. His hand gently caressed my stomach and a wide smile crossed her face as he asked meekly, “Is it mine?” I giggled a little, realizing why he would ask, since we had some fantastic sex several times shortly before my death. I couldn’t say no because it well could be her child inside me. I would much prefer to be carrying his child than a child of the Grim Reaper. Murrey held me gently as we walked through the dark cemetery stopping several times to kiss passionately making me desire to have her penis inside me once more, but we both hesitated and stopped for fear of harming the precious child that was nearly ready to emerge into this world.
    I peered back into the darkness and could have sworn I saw the Grim Reaper’s glowing eyes and below them, a frown. At least I thought it was a frown or as much of a frown that a skull’s face could muster. A shiver ran down my spine making my whole body shake and quake. Murrey Magdalene cuffed my woolly cheeks in an attempt to ease my fear. Yes, I said woolly cheeks. A witch had cast a spell upon me and turned my head into a sheep’s head. My name is Patty Lamb, and my nickname is Lammy. The angry witch had cast the spell making my face match my nickname. When Murrey said, “You don’t have to be afraid, mutton.” it caused tears to moisten my fluffy sheep face. My ugly lamb head remained the same after my death. Even the Devil himself couldn’t or wouldn’t change it back or reverse the curse. The sheep head is what killed me because I had circled myself with candles and was chanting, trying desperately to reverse the spell when the book and my clothes and the house became an oven that roasted me.
    I fingered Murrey’s black short chin hair while she pinched my tears as they were being absorbed into the fuzz around my wet nose. I said “Baaa” and he laughed and then she kissed my thin lips. He quickly stepped back making a strange grimace and what sounded as if she was trying to hide a gag. I realized it was my breath, since I ruminate. Just like a sheep, I regurgitated my cud into my mouth and Murrey had sucked in some of my vomit which I masticate then re-swallow. But I was ruminating mentally as well, thinking about the Grim Reaper and his sado-masochistic sex with me while I was in hell. I had feared that it would be my eternal punishment for my sexual promiscuity during my life. Murrey Magdalene and I slowly strolled away from the cemetery into spotlights formed by street lights. I felt the Reaper’s piercing eyes that sent little red aiming dots like those from a rifle fearing he was very eager to get hold of Murrey’s kind heart.    
    We stopped when we heard what sounded like horse’s hooves clanking on the concrete sidewalk. We stood in a dark spot waiting to see what it was. A human sized goat walking upright entered a spotlight from the streetlight. The sight of a goat-man with large curved horns turned me on sexually. Then I realized it was Peter the Satyr. I rushed into the spotlight and hugged him, then kissed him passionately. He didn’t pull back or gag like Murrey did since he naturally regurgitated his cud and masticated just like I did. I had met him after the witch cursed me and made me have a lamb’s head before I caught myself on fire and died. That ram sex was sure great. As Murrey Magdalene entered the circle of light, I began to wonder just who the actual father of my child might be.
    Murrey twitched around and his bottom lip seemed to quiver as he stared up at Peter’s very large, sharp horns. Murrey was no fighter, but he was an excellent lover just as Peter was. And either one would make a very good husband and father. Murrey backed from the awesome stature of Peter’s tall, muscular body, and then told me that she’d see me later. He quickly turned and scurried into the darkness. Then she yelled. He had run into the Grim Reaper standing behind us. The hooded skeleton was strangling Murrey with his boney fingers, but I yelled for him to release her. The Reaper hesitated, then reluctantly removed his hand from her throat. Murrey ran. The Reaper again floated backward away from us into the oblivion of darkness. Peter the Satyr stood silently chewing his cud at full speed.
    “Hell wasn’t a very nice place.” I said taking Peter by the hand and walking toward the next spotlight. Peter’s hooves clopped. He swallowed hard, then regurgitated and chewed even more feverishly than before. He didn’t speak, but only masticated. I put my head against his large chest and pulled his muscular arms around me as if I were covering myself in my bed.
    We walked all hugged up like that for several minutes before Peter finally swallowed and said, “You were all burned up.”
    “Yes. The candles caught my book and clothes on fire.”
    “They kept your coffin closed.”
    “Yes. I know. I couldn’t see anyone at the funeral.”
    “But, now...” He peered down at my body which was now like it was before my death, except the belly.
    “It’s a long story.” I said.
    “Got nothing to do.” He spoke like a dullard, which I think he really was.
    So as we walked slowly, I began to explain the best I could what had happened and why I got my body back unscathed. Basically, when I got to the Gate, St. Peter said I wasn’t on the list to enter Heaven, so he sent me down to the Devil, who whispered a long time with his brother, the Grim Reaper. They laughed and flipped a coin. The Reaper won and he tied me to a pole and began his cruel kind of sex that was like torture. Finally St. Peter called and said there was a mistake because it wasn’t my time to die, so they had to send me back and put me in the cemetery with a new body. But I still had the sheep head, and I was pregnant. I did not know if the baby was from what the Reaper did to me or what I had done before my death experience.
    “Me Peter. Me saint?”
    “You’re Peter the Satyr. Not the saint.”
    “Who Saint Peter?”
    “He’s the angel that lets people into the gate of Heaven.”
    “Who Reaper?”
    “He’s the Death Guy who takes souls away from the body.”
    Well, Peter the Satyr was really great sex, but I hoped he wasn’t the father of my child. His gene pool scared me. But it would be better than having the Grim Reaper as the father. And Murrey Magdalene was very nice, but I felt that it might confuse the child not knowing if daddy was a male or female.
    That is how things went right after my return from my death experience. People called me a ‘zombie’ because I was dead and buried and then came back to life. But I really don’t like that term applied to me, and so I became a vegetarian. I figured they would be less likely to call me a zombie if I didn’t eat meat. And then I went to college because people seem to consider zombies dumb, very dumb. Just like sheep. And that was another goal, to reverse the curse and get my human head back. I accomplished that by going to a cartoon artist plastic surgeon who gave me a make-over. But he gave me an Anime head. At least that was better than a sheep head. My daughter did not have a sheep head, and she is very smart. I never have figured out who her real father is.
    That is all that I wanted to do here: give a little backstory about me. It really doesn’t matter, anyway. I am sure that no one will ever read this far. Someone may scroll down to this end part as many do and sigh a relief that they didn’t read all that crap up there. So be it. This is all nonsense anyway.