It happened to be a sunlit April afternoon and we were just taking a walk, enjoying ourselves in the sunshine, listening to the birds singing and generally being happy with the world. We didn't even notice the almost invisible lad sharing the same side of the pavement with us, approaching, supposed to pass us by and be forgotten just like so many others in a faceless crowd.
He happened to be a bearded fellow with long hair, wearing a snow white T-shirt and jeans with the same colour. (For some unexplainable and maybe pathological reason he has a leaning to pure white colour in clothing and young children.) He seemed to be an average normal citizen and we didn't pay attention to him until the very moment he reached us.
Revelation came through our noses. In the instant when we smelled his penetrating long-unwashed homeless stench with dominating top notes of piss and hiding base notes of rot in it, we shouted his name aloud:
A few days have passed and we could conclude that obviously he hasn't washed since his resurrection. Certainly he thinks that it's enough for him if some religious flock of brainwashed lambs and church leader wannabes pray for him every Sunday and he's cleaned by it again and again. And perhaps it happens to every similar mortal zombie resurrected from the dead - but it's only my suspicion and still needs some further scientific evidence.