Master Wong entered his favorite teahouse at the same moment that Fallow was on his way to the market, and the red headed girl was in a mad dash to save herself. Master Wong looked around and waved over the stiff maitre’d.
The Zombie’s Cha- teahouse was so old, well run and lucrative, that the illustrious staff that was employed there refused to leave their positions even when dead. The success and novelty of the teahouse was almost entirely due to the staff of stiff stiffs that helped to ensure an atmosphere of splendor and old world suave.
The owner’s of Zombie Cha didn’t mind the loyalty. They appreciated the hard work of their oldest employees, and the fact that they rarely had to train new hires was worth every penny that they saved. They were always angry about having to pay a fortune in sweet smelling flowers to help hide the dead people smell that emanated from the loyal undead employees.
Master Wong and his butler Smellings approached the host stand with the confidence of customers who had tread these dank depths many times before.
“Yeeeeeessssss?”
“Rolando, it is I, Master Wong. My usual table for two please.”
Rolando the zombie matre’d looked at the guests with an air of importance that he’d perfected over his three hundred years of fine dining service to the Zombie Cha.
The crypt-like reply came as from beyond the grave. “Master Wong and Smellings. A joy as always to see you both. Please, this way gentlemen.”
The ancient, mostly mummified maitre’d shambled off into the depths of the Teahouse. Master Wong followed the zombie at the snail like pace, his manservant Smellings trailing behind as always. The upper crust of Wanderlust society insisted on dining here. Not only for the atmosphere, but also because they could often have the same waiter for their whole lives. A waiter that knows your likes and dislikes, your allergies, and what to get you, is worth their weight in tombstones. But the prices… that was another matter.
Smellings thought of their current financial situation.
“Sir, I don’t know if we can afford this place right now.”
“Nonsense, Smellings!” came Master Wong’s offhand reply as they filed behind the corpse towards their favorite booth. “We have eaten here for years. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure the management will understand. They’re not bloodsuckers you know. Ah the Count!”
Smellings forgot his previous concerns as the zombie shuffled to a swaying halt. They now stood in front of a darkly-clothed being from the depths of midnight shadows. Rolando the Zombie Matrie D nodded curtly at the vampire that stood in front of them.
The manager of the Zombie Cha teahouse wore a dark suit with a high collar, that trailed away into the shadows like it was merging with the darkness. The being’s long fangs poked out of his mouth in a perpetual grin. The pale, thin, ghost-like man in front of them was the epitome of old-world style mixed with a neauveau “children of the night” look. This old world effect was relatively easy for Count Vale Mir Von Richter and his dry cleaner since all of his suits were from the old world. They only smelled slightly of croutons, dust and coffins.
“It-ths tho nithe to thee you Mathhter Vong!”
“Ah yes, Count Von Richter, you look well.” Master Wong replied with a nod. “Have you been getting some sun lately.”
“Ah-HA… Aha... Ahaaaaa!” The count mirthed slowly.
Von Richter smiled wide enough to show his fangs clearly. He slowly turned towards their waiting booth. Grinding coffin lids and graveyard grass grew faster than his movement.
