The Stones of Angkor

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It was dark and dank in the tunnel, and his face was sticky with dirt and sweat, so of course Danny was making with the jokes.

“It’s been ages since Old Man Tom’s gotten laid. His wife isn’t interested in sex anymore, so one day Old Man Tom goes to the barn and starts looking around. He spots a very nice-looking gelding with white spots and a great coat of brown fur—”

“What’s a gelding?” Will asked.

“What?”

“What’s a gelding? Do I need to know what that is in order to get this joke?”

“It’s a horse.”

“Then why didn’t you just say ‘horse’?”

“’Cause it’s a gelding. Now, you want me to finish this joke or not?”

“Wait, are you saying I have that option? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Danny said something, but Will couldn’t hear it over the shotgun blast, the ear-splitting noise magnified in the tight confines of the tunnel. For the briefest of seconds, bright red and yellow fire lit up the darkness, revealing the skeletal forms of three ghouls, black-prune skin rippling as they lunged at him — just before the silver buckshot vaporized flesh from bone.

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