Life is hard. Job. Mortgage. Family. Neighbors. Crime. Too many to count. Everybody copes with these things differently. This is a story about the Living Skeleton. This is the story of the Living Skeleton coping with these things in his own way.

Pet care, work ethic, and VW Jetta sponsorship. He's a family man. But is it too good to be true?

Every parent has been guilty of pulling a prank or two on his or her offspring. Here we find the Living Skeleton taking it a little too far, taking advantage of their innocent, tender age. Also, we catch our first glimpse of the evil brewing inside him.

Okay. So, like, there's only one living skeleton on the whole planet. Okay? And you're a bank teller and the bank gets robbed by a living skeleton, and you're telling your friend, a living skeleton, about how they'll never catch the guy. 2+2=6.

The powder dissolved in the Glenlivet Scotch, and the Living Skeleton was free to pursue the woman of his nightmarish dreams.

The bust went great, except for the one culprit who got away. The oblivious officer describes the scene to his skeleton friend, who, after an extended trip to the restroom, is having trouble seeing why any of this matters.

Reeling from his recent heroin overdose, the Living Skeleton finds himself staring in the mirror, searching for the answers he longs for: Is he living? Dead? Can he sin? How can he question his own morality when he isn't even sure of his mortality?

Time for things to die. He's not in the mood for thinking logically anymore. Morals be damned; this guy's giving in to every impulse. And then there is a premonition. He sees himself confronting the big man upstairs.

God, meet the Living Skeleton. Living Skeleton, meet God. Discuss.

The climax of the Living Skeleton's story. After putting his family out of his misery, he takes the tool he worked so meticulously on, and brings his dear Ann Maurice into his world.

After making a grave miscalculation, the Living Skeleton is now more alone than he has ever been.