image [https://i.imgur.com/RhuDTfZ.jpeg]

Zed the zombie sat on a tropical beach, but instead of lounging in the sun, he hunched over a desk, typing on his laptop. He dragged his computer, chair, and even his desk onto the sand, hoping for some relaxation. Yet here he was, furiously working away as waves crashed nearby.

“This isn’t what I signed up for,” he grumbled, pausing to flick sand out of his keyboard. He glanced at the sunbathers laughing and sipping drinks with little umbrellas. The living had it easy. They could just switch off their brains and enjoy life. But Zed? It was either eat brains or be brains. Unfortunately he chose the higher education route.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Pfff, who needs livin’ when being dead gets you… paperwork.” Zed muttered dryly.

As he struggled to focus, a seagull swooped down and snatched a chunk of his decaying arm. Zed barely reacted, just sighed, watching the bird fly off with its prize.

"Fantastic," he muttered, grabbing duct tape from his bag. He’d fix it later. Right now, he had a conference call to prep for and a presentation to finish.

Zed looked longingly at the waves. A swim would’ve been nice—he used to love surfing when he had all his flesh. But work wouldn’t stop just because he was on vacation.

With a deep sigh, Zed adjusted his hat, leaned back over the desk, and kept typing as the sun set behind him. Vacation, it seemed, was just another day of the undead grind.