One night, Victor Van Dort was stuck in the Land of the Dead, courtesy of the Corpse Bride Emily. And he had no idea how to get out.
He tried to think of a plan of escaping from this underground place, but instead ended up in the Ball and Socket Lounge Bar, and played a piano piece which he could fully indulge himself in. However, his mind was so flustered, he couldn't fully concentrate on playing; something which always annoyed him.
Unable to wait to end the wretched piece, Victor didn't notice Emily, his new free-spirited wife, gliding up to him in her torn and ragged wedding gown.
"That was a beautiful piece, Victor." Emily's dulcet voice commented from behind him. Victor almost fell off the piano stool as he jumped in fright from hearing her voice.
"Beautiful?" He said the word whilst trying to get over his startled state.
"Undeniably." He turned round to look at her. Yes, there was no denying Emily was a vision: the heart shape of her face, her large loving eyes, her curly cobalt blue hair falling tangled around past her chest, her wedding gown hugging her tiny waist and generous hips. But she was dead. She was a corpse….but a captivating one, at that…
"Thank you, Emily…" Victor remembered to reply with a smile, removing himself from his thoughts of her beauty. "It's just a shame that the pieces I play are so morbid –"
"I wouldn't call them morbid," Emily replied to Victor's sigh of melancholy. "I would call them…bittersweet."
"Oh…of course." He gave her another smile, before she gently kissed his cheek. For lips so cold, they touched him with such feeling and affection.
"Now we must introduce your musical talent to Mr. Bonejangles," Emily suddenly jumped up with a burst of excitement. "I'm sure he would allow you to play with his band down here; and you can play with them every night, and whenever we are greeted with new arrivals, and –"
"Wait, wait, uh…" Victor stopped her enthusiastic speech. "I-I can't play every night." Emily was about to ask why, when he added: "I can't stay down here, in this…place."
"Well, why not?" She asked.
"…I wouldn't be able t-to survive," Victor answered hesitantly.
"What do you mean?" Emily tilted her head to one side, her eyes alight with interest.
"I won't be able to eat, or-or sleep or…because you don't, and –"
"Do you mean to say that you think we don't eat or sleep or do anything you normally do upstairs?" After Victor timidly nodded at her, Emily fell into melodious laughter. "Oh, such nonsense you're talking, Victor! What ever made you think we don't?"
"Because you're dead." Victor hoped he didn't sound too rude with this comment.
"That's never stopped us before!" With one last giggle, she moved away from him and put her hand to her chin in a mindful manner. "Now that you've brought it up, I wonder where you're going to sleep. We'll need to find you a nice comfortable coffin to sleep in."
"You sleep in coffins?" Victor asked in a small voice.
"Yes, underneath your gravestone, in the graveyard…but of course, it's a little problematic for you, seems as you don't…have a gravestone yet…You can always sleep in mine with me, of course!"