I draped my overcoat over my zombified friend, Shamrock O'Malley, and we quickly stole away to my residence, stopping only twice to recover various pieces that fell away from his rotting frame.
"It occurs to me," he said after we had reclined in my study (and I had draped a towel over his chair), "my resurrection stems from a magical amulet that I won off a gypsy woman in a game of chance."
"So we find the gypsy to restore your flesh anew," I said.
"That's absurd, Walton! No, we need something more potent than an itinerant gypsy magic for this!"
~~~
More cases from the files of Shamrock O'Malley
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