"I Took A Walk Home!"

Hee-Hee, welcome to ISSUE 54 OF CREEPS CASTLE, Kiddies!  I, CREEPS, have just been HANGING AROUND, hoping and awaiting to ROPE YOU IN aha-ha-ha-ha-ha.  Now, LET'S GET SWINGING with a story OF CORPSE entitled...
A man was driving his green Chevy on a road by Cincinnati, Ohio, early one morning in the late-Winter of 1964.  He checked his watch and said, "3 a.m." to himself.  The Temptations sang "The Way You Do The Things You Do" on his car-radio, and a truck driver blared his horn just then behind him.  The truck driver ran the guy off the road, causing him to wreck.  
Fifteen minutes went by and the man's shadowy-figure crawled out of his upside-down car and scampered up, over the hill, onto the road in the street-lights.  "What's going on?  I can't remember very much at all" he said to himself, confused.  An hour later, as he entered Cincinnati, the man scurried into a bar.  The bartender and others screamed in horror at his shadowy-form.  The truck driver was at the counter and swigged a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey down.  "Hey, mister, you're dead.  You're a zombie!!!" the bartender screamed at the man, as people ran.  "I took a walk home!" he proclaimed, answering the bartender.  "I-I-I'm DEAD?!???" he proclaimed in shock.  
He saw his reflection in a mirror behind the counter.  His skin was half-black and rotting, his eyes were missing and his hair shined a ghostly-white, along with his decaying-eye sockets, his scarf and within his decaying-mouth.  "You murdered me mister!!!" the zombie moaned in his dark trench-coat to the truck driver.  "Guy should've gotten out of my way.  The jerk" the truck driver responded, then saw the corpse.  He tried to scream, but the zombie removed his tan gloves and gripped the truck driver's throat with his now rotting-hand of black, moldering-flesh.  The zombie jammed two of his dead-fingers on his other rotting-blackened-hand directly into the guy's eyes, forcing them back into his head.  The truck driver slumped over, dead then, and the zombie tore his decaying-digits out of the eye sockets.  
Well, that zombie liked to POKE AROUND WITH THE TRUCK DRIVER eh?  Hee-Hee-Hee-Hee!  The poor guy was quite a NERVOUS WRECK when the truck driver ran him off the road there.  At least in that bar mirror he got A CHANCE TO REFLECT ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.