The corpse sighed agitatedly, as he reviewed his current situation.

The corpse was dead. Quite dead. At least, he should have been. His heart had stopped beating, his lungs had deflated, and his brain was currently smeared across the grill of an 18-wheeler. And he was very firmly placed under 6 feet of dirt inside his coffin. But still he remained, not nearly as dead as he ought to be. It wasn't due to any sort of unholy enchantment or blasphemous act of Science. The only reason this wretched creature didn't leave the mortal coil was because he couldn't.

That wasn't due to a lack of trying, of course. Quite the contrary, The Corpse had put more effort into being dead than most people put into being alive. He wasn't particularly looking forward to it (not many would be), but he felt that it was the expected thing to do in this situation and that it would be better for all involved if he'd just get on with it already.

At first he'd tried just relaxing, and letting go. Letting nature take its course. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done- before his untimly "demise" via Convoy, he'd always been a bit on the anal retentive side. He had had a tendency to realize he was breathing and promptly forget how, until he passed out and his lungs took the reigns over from his brain again.

When he realized that relaxation, whether it be the answer or not, was quite impossible, he tried to simply walk through all the steps involved in dying. The logical approach seemed best, except he really wasn't at all sure what dying entailed. Perhaps The Corpse had simply missed some vital class back in his elementary school days, or maybe the mysteries of death extend beyond what comes beyond and also happen to wrap their greasy tendrils around the seemingly simple question of "How?" as well. Regardless, this would be an instance where logic would not aid him.

He'd even tried simply willing himself to death, and when his will proved too weak, guilting himself into it. "You know, you're really being something of a burden with all this living you're up to." He scolded himself. "If you're not going to get on it, you may as well get out of your grave so that someone who actually had a USE for it could go in. But of course, then everyone would realize that they'd wasted all that money on that lovely funeral for you. Yes yes, you remember the funeral, don't you? How they spent a FORTUNE on all those pretty little flowers they put on the coffin? How your mother literally THREW herself at your body in hysterics as they tried to lower it in? How do you think she'd feel if you came back from the dead? She only has one child, that was her last chance to throw that big of a fuss over a dead body, and you'd have to go and ruin it by being alive! Christ, you make me want to-"

"Excuse me!" A passing worm interjected. He was quite perplexed by this string of events, and had been witnessing this internal argument for a few minutes.

"Oh! Pardon me, I didn't know anyone else was down here." The Corpse stammered apologetically. Between the embarrassment of being caught talking to himself and the guilt of being alive, he wasn't in much of a position to have any other sort of tone.

"Oh, don't worry about it. You just seemed to be in a bit of trouble, and I was wondering if I could help you out." The Worm replied. He wasn't quite used to a talking Corpse, let alone one that blended politeness and insanity quite so fluidly. It was quite poetic.

"I... Well, yes. You see, I'm... I'm having a bit of trouble 'passing on', so to speak."

"Passing on? You mean dying?" The worm inquired, a bit too cheerfully.

"Look, I'm having a very difficult time of things at the moment, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't be quite so... caustic." The Corpse replied irritably.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not used to someone who couldn't do it." The Worm smirked.

"I'm aware that my position is a bit odd, but-"

"Why're you having so much trouble? You're not retarded, are you?"

"What!? No I'm not re- I'm not like that!"

"What is it with you and euphemisms?"

"LOOK! I'm TRYING to be polite!"

"Well, there's no need to shout! I'm just trying to help!"

The Corpse sighed heavily, and counted to 10. "Yes... Yes, I'm aware of that. Sorry, I'm just a bit-"

"Crazy?"

"STRESSED. Now please, will you help me or-"

"Wait, how exactly are you talking?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, even if you're not 'passed on', I'm not seeing much in the way of a head on your shoulders."

"I... You see... Well, that's a good-"

The Corpse fell silent.