From Zombie Plumbers by W. Scott:
The skeleton phone rang.
The sound and rattling caused a cloud of dense, thick dust to gather around the ancient rotary phone. It was a standard 1948 black desk-model which had been... altered in various and somewhat alarming ways. It's receiver had grown a hand. And the hand was alive.
A grim-looking figure in stained overalls and greasy cap pounded on the back of the receiver with a rotted fist, stunning the hand into inaction before answering the phone.
"Eeeerrrr..." he groaned into the tarnished disk of plastic.
What came from the other end of the line might have sounded like language of some kind if it weren't punctuated with screeches and babbling. It sounded human, possibly female.
The overalled figure smacked a stray cat out of the trash can. The cat hissed and snagged a piece of chicken before scrambling away. It picked through the papers, bent pipe fittings and a rotted ham sandwich until a lump of melted black crayon was found. A few marks were made on a coupon for lemon-fresh dishwasher additive, "fifty percent off."
The hand awoke just as the phone clattered to the floor, the voice still shrieking from the other end. It grasped and grabbed, violently looking for something to crush or rip, but there was nothing there. The sound of a gigantic segmented metal door opening filled the night.
The figure wandered towards a vehicle that looked like a cross between a WWII-era milk truck and a funny car. It had bulging slick back tires and an exposed chromed engine with six thick pipes swooping down each side. The figure carried a wrench the size of a small horse. Only a few steps outside the door, his right arm slipped out of its sleeve and landed on the driveway with a wet thud. The figure nonchalantly picked up its arm and reattached it before opening the truck's passenger door.
The side panel of the truck read:
ZOMBIE PLUMBERS
OPEN ALL NIGHT
The explosive, throaty sound of a dragster engine thundered up and down the alley. A moment later it roared angrily over the deep sound of screeching tires and the truck literally leaped from being parked to 70 MPH.
At least half a dozen metal trash cans exploded out of the alley and banged across Jefferson Avenue as the Zombie Plumbers truck emerged in a reckless, hard-over turn. More screeching tires mixed with twelve gunning pistons and the orange flash of backfires from chromed pipes reflected from shop windows as the truck rocketed up the street.
A car alarm wailed in protest.
