The beginning of another idea I had. Kind of like film noir, but without the noir. Not light-hearted but with tongue firmly in cheek. Below is the beginning:

Kieran was living in an old 50’s movie. Moonless night, hot, humid air, his shirt drenched from the sweat of shoveling. His wife, Erin held the coleman lamp above him, looking over her shoulder as if expecting some killer filmed in black and white to sneak upon them.

He leaned on his shovel, taking a breather.

“Maybe you should just keep shovelling,” she suggested. She had the lamp down so low that it barely did any good. Erin was always there with him but she simply didn’t have the nerve for these types of affairs.

“Do you mind if I take a breather?”

“Actually, yes. Take a look at this place. It gives me the creeps.”

“You’re being superstitious, that’s all.”

“You know, Kier, for once, you can just admit that this is a little bit weird.”

Truth by known, this was a little bit weird. But he didn’t want to let on because that would only further shake her nerves. And he couldn’t do it without her.

Grave robbing was serious business and he needed help.

“It’s all part of the job, honey. Nothing unusual about a man working for a living, is there?” He began shoveling again, wishing that he would’ve hired a few Hispanics to help him make this job easier.

“Digging graves is not your job.”

True. But he thought her statement made it sound more like this was a hobby. And that wasn’t quite right, either.