Timmy's breakfast consisted of two burned muffins, a raw egg, his Auntie Ena--dug from her grave--and half a grapefruit.
The burned muffins smelled funny, and the raw egg had a blood spot on it. Timmy ate the grapefruit, but passed the rest to his Aunt.
"Thank you, Timmy Pootzi," Auntie rasped, using her special term of endearment for him. "What a nice boy you are, Auntie's little darling." She tried to chew the muffins down, but they hadn't left her dentures in when they'd buried her, so she politely left the rest on the plate. The egg went down much more easily.
"Aunt Ena," Timmy began delicately, "why are you here? I mean, it's very nice that you're back with us, but aren't you, like, dead? Shouldn't you be frolicking in some rose bed or playing a harp on a cloud or something?"
"Yes, and I'll get to that, believe me," Aunt Ena said. Some egg ran down her chin; Timmy handed her a napkin. "But first I have to go haunt your Uncle Charlie for a while."
"Haunt Uncle Charlie? Why?"
"Because dear, when we were children he told me I killed the dog when I fed it one of Great Grandma's biscuits. I never forgave myself. Now I know Belvedere died from a spider bite--he told me so himself. You pass doggie heaven on your way up, you know. All those little puppies chasing rabbits...did you know doggie heaven is bunny hell? Now, dear Timmy, it's payback time."
--Rivka (1st sentence: Whirlochre)