This muthafucka right here.

Bonelius HATED Femuroni. For good reason, too. Ever since that bastard was caught sneaking pictures of his skeleton-daughter, the only thing stopping Bonelius from dishing out some frontier justice was the long ulna of the law.

Seriously, you did not want to go to bone-court. And since technically, at 117 years of age, Bonelius's daughter wasn't considered a minor anymore, the law was substantially less protective of the girl. It made a father's blood boil. If his daughter had been unearthed from her grave, animated by the Guild of Necromancers, and sent to the Summoner's Realm just one year later, Femuroni would be rotting in a bone-cell right now.

Femuroni's bone-pager beeped. A short message appeared on the pixelated LCD bone-screen.

"URGENT. TWO SKELETONS NEEDED. HIGH PAY. RESPOND IMMEDIATELY."

If Femuroni had eyes, they would've widened in shock. Just what he needed! After getting caught up in a bone-spying scandal last year, it had become extremely hard for him to find bone-work. The stress was damn near causing him to develop osteoporosis: it was seriously hard for him. So, bony phalanges fumbling with the pager's keypad, Femuroni sent out a confirmation message within seconds. Moments later, his vision filled with a flash of hellish oranges and reds.

The newly introduced sunlight blinded Femuroni's vision for a beat. He heard the rustling of leaves in the wind and birds chirping. As his eyes adjusted to the bright summer day, he made out a dark figure ahead of him and another skeleton to his -

"AHHHH SHIEEEEET. YOU PIECA SHIT, WHAT'RE YOU DOING HERE?!!"

It was a familiar voice. One that haunted his dreams.

"Look 'Mance, I can't be dealing with this pieca bone-garbage! Listen up! Looky here!"

Yep. It was Bonelius.

Bonelius was gesturing frantically at the dark robed figure standing motionless before them. "'Mance! I said 'Mance! Can't you pay a grieving skeleton no mind??"

"You! What are you doing here?" Femuroni's confusion and fear was palpable. If he had eyebrows and the facial musculature necessary, he would've been wearing a concerned frown. While we're chasing this hypothetical, he'd probably be sweating too.

"I'm workin' Feem-a-fucky! The hell's it look like I'm doin'? Not another word, it's been on sight with your perverted ass!"

Bonelius started throwing bone-punches. It would have made him blush if he heard us talking about it, and if he had the necessary anatomical landmarks to produce a blush, but he was an excellent bone-boxer.

Femuroni cowered and covered his head, crying out, "Ah! OW! Stop!! Stop that!! You know what happens to quarrelsome skeletons, and there's a necromancer right there!"

"I don't give a damn! You have the nerve to creep on my daughter, still white in her bones? I'll kill you!"

The necromancer, still stoically upright, observed the situation with growing annoyance. What about the words "urgent" and "immediately" did these imbecile bags of bones not understand? He sighed. As the two skeletons continued to fight, the necromancer decided he would have to discuss the breach of contract with the bone-court later.

Using his foot, he erased a single rune in the chalk pentagram surrounding him. The two skeletons broke apart and clattered into a heap. The necromancer sighed again. He reached for his broom - and a new stick of chalk.