Collegetown, Penn – GlossyNews.com – Penn State’s 75-year college reunion was disrupted Tuesday by the arrival of a horde of living dead from nearby Collegetown Cemetery. Based on cemetery dental records, all of the living dead who showed up at the reunion are believed to be bona fide graduates of the Penn State Class of ‘35.
Six men and seven women — mere skeletons at this point, though two of the women were wearing wigs believed to have been filched from the local Beauty Express Wiggery — arrived en masse at the reunion held in the mansion of Bernice Dowderston, heiress to the enormous Dowderston eyeglasses nosepad fortune.
“Actually there were only four of us old women still alive to attend the reunion,” says Mrs. Dowderston. “Myself and three others, all pushing 100. It was a pretty dismal affair so you can imagine how delighted we all were to hear the doorbell ring. But when I opened the door and saw those living dead on the front porch I nearly had a conniption. Of course I asked them in, dead or alive, that’s just how I was brought up. And they were served punch and hors doeuvres like everybody else.”
Apparently the living dead had somehow picked up on email invitations sent out to a list of ‘35 grads Mrs. Dowderston had obtained from the Penn State registrar’s office. How the living dead intercepted those emails is unknown unless it was through the cemetery custodian’s Android on which he customarily chatted while riding on the cemetery’s Ride-a-Mow lawn mower.
But in any case it soon became apparent that the living dead had arrived with an agenda of their own.
Refusing punch and hors doeuvres they immediately launched into a wild danse macabre in Mrs. Dowderston’s living room. Forming a circle the thirteen skeletons forcibly joined hands with the four
old women and danced a kind of high-stepping polka, knocking over lamps and breaking the punch bowl, which spilled its contents onto the carpet.
“That punchbowl belonged to my great-grandmother,” fumed Mrs. Dowderston. “Now it was in a thousand pieces with huckleberry punch all over my carpet. That was the last straw. I went and let Old Sam out of the basement.”
Old Sam is Mrs. Dowderston’s watchdog, an aging but still capable pit bull. Apparently Old Sam viewed the dancing skeletons as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to increase his cache of bones under the house and soon had reduced several of the now-alarmed skeletons to piles of debris, then proceeded to chase the others in a disorganized panic down the block.
“It turned out to be an interesting reunion, all in all,” says Mrs. Dowderston. “I had always wondered what happened to all those wonderful young, ambitious people I went to college with way back in the thirties. Now I know.”