The zombies, outwitted by beet soup and Pork Cracklins, ran back home to the cemetery.
“And next year, don’t show up unless you’re invited!” yelled Gramma.
“You know, Wiley,” said Grampa, “if it weren’t for the awful stench and the fact that they tried to eat us, those zombies wouldn’t be half bad! I think I might invite them back for spaghetti night!”