The 3 undead sat at a table in the center of the bar, getting mightily stupid. The zombie-hunters had them surrounded, for some reason deciding to let the 3 get shit-faced before they blew them back to hell.
Zombie 1 called out: “Bartender, make me another me!!” He slapped his knee so hard that 2 fingers flew off his hand.
Zombie 2 guffawed: “Hey barkeep, here’s two fingers to put in my next drink.”
Zombie 3 snorted with laughter, so hard that his nose blew off his face, landing at the feet of the head zombie-hunter.
The head zombie-hunter said “Enough,” calmly blew all 3 of them away with his varmint gun, and called out to the barmaid, “Honey, bring me a ‘Them’ (nodding toward the silent trio), I mean a Zombie, and make it a triple.”