You had been invited to meet me for a job. You were a plastic surgeon for the deceased. You knew I was paying quite a lot of money, so who were you to deny a job? However, once you realized it included spray painting my body day and night, as well as Helen's, you became a bit frightened of us both. We were dead, after all.

One night, when you couldn't take it any longer and tried to sneak out of the room, I sing-songed, "Oh, where do you think you're going?" You froze immediately, so I got up from bed and laid my head on your shoulder.

"Just because Helen isn't here doesn't mean you can leave, dear... besides, I need you! And... If I didn't have you, you'd tell everybody we're dead, and I'd have to kill my favorite little helper. You don't want that, do you?"