“Isabella almost couldn’t believe her eyes. Arranged in a half-circle facing her window, in the middle of the grassy lawn, were six mariachis. Four had guitars, one had a xylophone, and one had a fiddle. All wore enormous sombreros, but the strangest thing of all was that these mariachis were skeletons.
… They were wailing away, strumming their guitars and howling in high nasal singsongs. She noticed that each one was wearing some kind of weapon. One wore a machete at his waist. One wore a pair of big pistols. One had a couple of ammunition belts over each shoulder, crisscrossing over his chest, and another had a lariat tied at his waist. One had a rifle, and one had a bullwhip strapped to his back.
Isabella could see right through them, too. She could see through the narrow slats of their ribs, through the long skinny ladders of vertebrae to the house where the two windows glowed like the lopsided eyes of a jack-o-lantern. The skeletons strummed away, clicking their teeth together like castanets, raising their voices even louder.
—from The Hand of Buddha by Linda Watanabe McFerrin
Not wanting to be cryptic, sometimes you just put it out there. You dance, you laugh, the skeletons play back up. Then everyone says nighty-night and, boy, do they mean it!
—Erin Orison, DEAD LOVE/the Daily Slice