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“What is a cemetery?” Corinne asked innocently.

“She will not like the answer.”

“A place where the dead were buried, guy,” replied the professor calmly, who still did not recognize a woman in the figure of Corinne.

“Bury?” replied Corinne visibly upset. “Like plants? Didn't they burn them like now?”

“No, they didn't burn them.”

“How disgusting! But where did they bury them?”

“In the earth or in small vaults, something like small houses.”

“Don't go on, don't go on, professor. I feel like vomiting.”

“What delicate boys there are these days. Well, as I was saying, Hips! a few years went by like that. Smokers died and were buried; they died and were buried and so on...”

Corinne put on stone-faced expression before all that talk, the last words of the old professor were impressing her very much.

“Luckily, in historical journalism class they already explained to us beforehand the old legends of the ‘burial’ rite. How barbaric.”

“Well, as I was saying,” the old professor continued animatedly, moving his eyes in a nystagmic way, “inside the lifeless bodies, the Zombie Fungus continued to generate new spores. These were transmitted at an alarmingly fast rate between the buried bodies of the cemeteries. Above all, in those lifeless bodies full of tobacco, which favored the growth of the fungus, since the combination of nicotine and strontium boosted the fusion. The prevailing humidity underground favored the effect called Buried Steam Pot, with which the disaster was, Hips! served at the table.”