Chapter Text
It was Will Chambridge’s day off work.
He’d been planning for this day to come ever since he’d learned of its existence. Every time he had to stumble home covered in bites and blood from the undead, he’d remind himself of what he was working towards: a single, blissful day of absolutely nothing.
It wasn’t some vengeful manager’s fault for scheduling him so much. After all, he was his own manager. The only entity who could be blamed for Will’s borderline deadly work schedule was himself. That would be unfair, though. It was far from his fault that the residents of Montana couldn’t be bothered to learn how to close a summoning circle properly. It was his job as an anti-necromancer to put the undead back in their graves. If they didn’t have a grave, he made one for them. It wasn’t safe to simply leave any kind of reanimation remains simply laying around where any old John Doe could stumble over them.
With the excitement of his day off finally upon him, Will was doing exactly what he had promised himself: Absolutely nothing. He had already spent three hours of his day laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling in blissful quiet. No screaming, no hissing, no nothing. The only interruption had been when he stood up to make himself a slice of jam toast, which he then proceeded to eat on the couch. He could never have brought himself to do that on a work day. Today was the day to do all the things that he missed and loved. He wanted to do something fabulously, incredibly mundane. Maybe he could hang a picture, or cook some soup. Maybe he could finally go out and buy a wrench so that he could build that IKEA shelf that had been sitting at the end of his bed for the past few months. It had been there for so long that he had started using the box the shelf came in to store things on, rather than simply bite the bullet and build the shelf.
Will frowned as he thought about the shelf. It looked absurd. An anti-necromancer such as himself couldn’t look absurd. It would ruin all his dignity, and that was basically all he had left in the world. Yes, this would be his mundane activity for his day off. It would be spectacularly normal, and then he would have a shelf where he could show off his collection of taxidermied octopi.
It would be a very normal day.
He just needed a wrench.