"Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead! [clang] Bring out your dead! [clang] Bring out your dead! [clang] Bring out your dead! [clang] Bring out your dead!"
Kunzite stared about himself in confusion. Now what? Before him stood a filthy looking town. Youma wandered about in a drunken manner. From out of one of the houses a creature emerged, another youma hanging from his back.
"Here's one -- nine pence." The youma said handing something metallic to the black clad youma who was pulling a cart full of bodies.
"I'm not dead!" The aging youma said.
The black one looked up from his cart. "What?"
"Nothing -- here's your nine pence." The standing youma replied.
"I'm not dead!" The old youma repeated.
This time the black youma heard him. "Here -- he says he's not dead!"
"Yes, he is."
"No, I'm not!"
"He isn't." The black clad youma said as he started to pull the cart down the street.
He was forced to stop, however, when the other youma jumped in his way. "Well, he will be soon, he's very ill."
"I'm getting better!"
"No, you're not -- you'll be stone dead in a moment." The first youma hissed to his living colleague.
"Oh, I can't take him like that -- it's against regulations." Explained the mortician.
"I don't want to go in the cart!"
"Oh, don't be such a baby."
"I can't take him..." The other youma replied.
"I feel fine!"
"Oh, do us a favor..." pleaded the creature.
"I can't."
"Well, can you hang around a couple of minutes? He won't be long." The creature said, trying to stall for time.
The mortician shook his head. "Naaah, I got to go on to Robinson's -- they've lost nine today."
"I think I'll go for a walk."
"You're not fooling anyone y'know," turns back to the mortician, "Look, isn't there something you can do?"
"I feel happy... I feel happy."
The mortician hesitates for a moment then gestures the they should move into an ally. Kunzite stared after them and jumped slightly when he heard a loud WHOMPing noise. A moment later the two youma came back into sight, the older youma hanging limply from the one's shoulder.
"Ah, thanks very much." The one replied as he dumped the now dead youma into the cart.
"Not at all. See you on Thursday!" The mortician called out as he slipped something into his pocket.
"Right."
Finally having enough of this, Kunzite tried to teleport back to the halls he knew but found to his surprise he couldn't. "Probably all the, ick, dirty energy here. I need to move to a cleaner place, that's all." He murmured as he carefully picked his way through the streets, holding his cape so the edges wouldn't be smeared in the mud.
The two youma watched him pass. "Who's that then?" The mortician asked.
"I don't know."
"Must be a king."
The first youma glanced over at his comrade. "Why?"
The black clad youma shrugged as he started off on his rounds. "He hasn't got shit all over him." He replied matter-of-factly.