Get Zombie: 8-Book Set Read online

  Its racist odors insulted my nostrils. I wanted to go back under the warmth of my blanket, but due to my hatred toward mysteries, I began trimming its face-hair.

  The creature moaned and tried to bite me. I said, “Hush, child!” and cut some more. Little by little I began to see something – some kind of face…

  There was an eyehole.

  I leaned into the hole…and stared as the crickets around us sang.

  Something was moving around inside the eyehole.

  Just then Barbara ran out from the tent, screaming, “THIS IS THE bestial MOMENT WHITE ANGELS GASP!”

  To my horror a creature flew out from the eyehole and latched onto my face. I spun around shrieking and clawed at the baby squirrel. Its hands were like daggers. I tried biting it, but all that did was anger it more.

  Barbara chased after me and pulled on her hair in confusion while saying loudly, “I’m calling you out! I’m moving my legs! I’m moving my legs!”

  I ran into a tree – on purpose – face first.

  When I woke up, the squirrel was halfway in my mouth, a corpse – the head sticking out from my lips.

  I stood up and Barbara pulled the tiny cadaver out.

  She said that to learn was to listen. She said this over and over again, even when we ate.

  I couldn’t stop spitting for the next few hours.

  Everything I put in my mouth tasted like bewilderment.

  Fourteen.

  It was now my time to extract the zombie sample. Barbara watched – arms crossed over her clothed breasts. She was smiling.

  The zombie, with its exposed eyehole, growled at me and hurt my feelings. Barbara wanted its tongue. She was quite adamant about this – wanted to put it with her other trophies. I slipped on a pair of latex gloves and gripped my pair of barber scissors. Barbara clapped.

  “Good! Now approach the beast slowly, but surely.”

  “Shall I hold my breath as well?”

  “Now that’s safe and smart.”

  I put a finger on the zombie’s chin and it began biting the air nonstop. I looked to Barbara for assistance, but she was doing jumping jacks. She said that she was trying to sweat out her positive aura onto me. I told her that I could feel her aura traversing through my supple meats and that she shouldn’t stop.

  Filled with Barbara’s special spirit-juice, I pulled off the zombie’s jaw (accidentally) and its tongue flapped in a berserk manner. The tongue was engorged with dead blood and seemed bestial at best.

  I couldn’t get a good grip on it for it was so slippery with saliva. I washed my hands with dirt and sprinkled some dirt onto the zombie-tongue with my pinky raised. It was at this point that the zombie turned outrageous. It thrashed about and lashed its head forward over and over.

  Barbara got up from doing pushups and stood next to me, breathless. She said that now was my moment of power, and that whatever I was going to do I had better do it fast. She also stated officially that I was putting her in heat. Barbara put her first finger to my forehead and I was instantly excited, sexually.

  I had visions of future fun times.

  The tongue, slowly, reached out and touched my face. I was thoroughly appalled! My scissors cut through it like an abused sock. The creature gave no hint of pain. Its mouth shot forth gore and Barbara put her hands over my face to shield it from the blood shower.

  With our sample, I inquired if we were now going home with the zombie.

  Barbara said shut up.

  It wasn’t my place to make such decisions, and just to teach me a lesson, she killed the zombie by putting 7 stakes through its mouth and said that we were going to go hunting & hiking some more up the tall mountain to spite me.

  I said, “Thank you, ma’am, may I have another?”

  She ripped my shirt off and coughed into it.

  Fifteen.

  Barbara had her arm around me as she slept. The crickets wouldn’t stop their incessant singing. I wanted to go out and eat the crickets and then spit out the crickets so I could see them cry.

  Sometimes I thought I had a cricket in my ear and I’d stick my finger in there and search for it. But I didn’t have a cricket in my ear. The only thing I had in my ear was paranoia. Barbara wasn’t snoring. Was she unconsciously hallucinating merry dreams? I brushed aside her bangs. Was she dreaming of happy kisses and wanton wishes?

  I wanted to kiss her. It had been so long since I kissed someone – meaning a girl. But Barbara was different. She was a woman. And she loved me – I knew she did. I could feel it in my heart and her love was warm in my belly and it felt so good.

  I didn’t want to be lonely anymore – wanted to get my ex out of my mind.

  Many nights I found myself crying, hoping for a miracle. But none ever came.

  Maybe tonight would be different.

  Would it be wrong if I leaned in and kissed her? Would it be as bad as kissing a college drunkard? I searched my backpack and took out a tube of watermelon lip-gloss and put some on, licking my lips.

  I held my breath…and kissed Barbara on the mouth.

  She didn’t wake up.

  Her lips were cold.

  I felt guilty. Jesus’ juice, what have I done!? What is this disturbing sensation in my stomach??! Why am I malfunctioning? I don’t want to be cursed…

  I went outside and paced back and forth under the moon. Three pinecones were on the grass. I squatted before them and arranged them in a row. I had to make sure that each one was straight. This went on for a good hour. What is the matter with me? Why can’t I just let things be? Why can’t I stop scratching myself? Why can’t I stop eating weird things, like cereal with ice cream and orange juice? Why can’t I stop worrying about tiny things? Why do I turn the stove off and on repeatedly? Why can’t I hold a relationship? Why am I a bad boyfriend? Why are my friends always mad at me? Why am I so skinny? Why am I so ugly? Why does God have to be so mad all the time?

  My legs gave in from squatting so much that I fell back.

  …The moon was full…

  …Beautiful…

  I inhaled, held it, and then exhaled.

  It was all in my head. All in my head. I had to learn self-control. I had to stop indulging without thinking first. And I hate thinking. I believe that it kills the imagination – slaughters the right side of the brain.

  I felt something standing behind me.

  Barbara’s shadow was standing in the tent – or rather, because our tent was quite tiny, Barbara’s shadow was hunched over.

  Was she searching for something?

  Was she okay?

  I got up, smiling, and pulled back the plastic flap.

  IT WAS A ZOMBIE!

  And it was about to eat Barbara.

  I screamed in a rising, high-pitched voice, “Barbara, zombie time!” and she woke up, jumping to her feet and doing a spinning kick, hitting the zombie woman in the chest, sending it sailing through the tent. The entire structure crumpled.

  We both swam through the sea of plastic and rolled around on the dirt, leaping to our feet and striking a karate pose.

  The zombie woman was enjoying nudity.

  She was obese, but the fat stopped exactly at the hips. Her legs…dear God…her legs were as thin as pool sticks. The sight of her at the same time concerned me and revolted me. I kept imagining hairs in my mouth. It was maddening, I tell you!

  Her legs reminded me of my entire image.

  I was staring at myself.

  I turned to Barbara.

  “Dear, Barbara, shall thou do me but one favor?”

  She picked up a tree branch and kicked it in half, producing a sharp end.

  “Commandeth.”

  I picked up the other end of the stick.

  “ACTION!”

  “Yarrrrrghhhh!”

  We charged the beast and ran our stakes through its eyes and then ran away screaming so as not to get blood on our clean clothes.

  Minutes later we ran back screaming to find the zombie dead, standing in a p
ool of its own filth with the stakes still in its eyes.

  We looked at each other…

  …and kissed.

  Sixteen.

  We chopped the zombie into tiny bits and buried her with our portable bags of concrete. Barbara didn’t touch me when we slept that night. It had taken us four hours to reset the tent. I assumed that she was just tired, but when I asked her if she was tired, she responded with, “No, I’m not tired, I just don’t want to touch you. Now go to sleep, Janeen.”

  “Raym.”

  “That’s what I said. Goodnight, my lady.”

  At first I thought she was just joking, or possibly dreaming. I even giggled for a while. But when she didn’t giggle back, I realized then that she wasn’t joking and probably really did wish my name was Janeen. Or worse…that I was someone else entirely.

  I remember seeing a picture of Toshiba in her photo album. The name on the bottom of the picture read, Janeen Toshiba, Rest In Peace.

  That night I had a dream. I was falling…then I was flying…then I was standing in something wet. There were dead things inside. There were tongues that slipped between my toes and gave birth to tiny baby tongues that dug into the pores of my skin.

  When I opened my eyes, I was on my side, staring at the shadows of swaying tree branches on the tent wall. It sounded like the ocean.

  Something cold was at my neck, licking.

  It was Barbara. She was flirting with me. I didn’t want to turn around. I enjoyed her lips at my neck. I closed my eyes and rolled over yawning, pretending to be asleep. I wanted to hold her, but I was too afraid that she’d stop if she knew that I was really awake.

  I decided to pretend that I was having a nightmare and tried to touch her stomach – possibly even pull her down next to me and hold onto her as if I was also dreaming of sweet lovemaking. Would she rape me in my sleep? One would hope so.

  I yawned again and blindly reached out for her stomach.

  My hand shot into something cool and wet.

  I felt around.

  It seemed like my hand was in an open bag of cold spaghetti. And it smelt like Barbara hadn’t changed her socks in quite some time.

  Then she screamed something.

  “Why am I a fool?!”

  Did she suddenly feel guilty for touching me in my sleep? I laughed and sat up hugging her, opening my eyes.

  Oh god it was the head of the obese zombie tasting my FACE!

  It was smiling. My hand was in its severed belly.

  Squatting, I leapfrogged through the tent, mumbling loudly as the whole place fell around me. Barbara wrapped me in the tent and picked me up and threw me to safety against a tree.

  I heard the unmistakable sounds of a serious beat-down as I tried desperately to climb my way out of the tent’s skin. When I was free and whipped the plastic away from my eyes, it was raining heavily. Against the giant moon, Barbara held the zombie’s head high above her and kicked it far into the distance, into the Honolulu city lights.

  The head was silent as it sailed.

  I nodded to Barbara in respect.

  She-was-a-maz-ing.

  The zombie belly was burned.

  “This here be zombie country, ma’am,” I whispered to myself as she walked off into the bushes. “This here be zombie country and ye be the farmer who farms. My wanton body is your lustful tractor. Amen.”

  Seventeen.

  In the morning, I smelt something cooking. I got out and stretched and saw that Barbara had created a tiny fire and was boiling a tiny pot. I walked over, rubbing my stomach to signal that I was hungry.

  She said that she was boiling the zombie’s shoulder. On hearing this, I instantly regurgitated onto my shirt for a 2nd time. Barbara threw her head back and laughed, and then threw her head forward and snarled. She stirred the pot with a tree branch that I can only assume to have been cleaned.

  Barbara explained that the human body needed food to run.

  “It is exactly like being an automobile that needs gasoline. We are cars that eat meat. That is the best analogy you shall ever hear. And today we shall eat that of a zombie – for this be walking dead meat!”

  “I shall not put it into my mouth. It shall never go past these luscious lips. No!”

  I felt dizzy then, slapping my palms against the sides of my head. Barbara laughed out loud and slapped her thighs.

  “O’ stink child! O’ stink child of mine! I reckon the body you currently possess is low on “gas”. Har har har! O’ stink child. We have no food left, save for this.”

  May the female version of God forgive me: For exactly three seconds I considered eating this Walking Dead Meat…and I hungered. Oh, no! I lusted for hideous bestial meat!

  Fighting off an intense wave of guilt and sickness, I turned around, crying into my hands. I could feel Barbara’s sweet touch on my shoulder. Her voice was that of a pure angel.

  “Dear, sir, please do not weep. I care for you and therefore would never feed thou anything upsetting and bestial. Now come to me. Turn around and come to me.”

  I sniffed, smiled, and turned around with my arms open.

  Barbara shoved a palm-full of bestial meat into my mouth. My eyes exploded. Barbara glued her hand to my mouth so I wouldn’t vomit the bestial meat out. She rode me like a pony as I got on all fours and pranced around, trying to spit up what was shoved down. Barbara reached back and produced a reel of duck tape and rolled the tape around and around my head, taping her hand to my mouth.

  I made serious horse sounds out of frustration, all the while trying to donkey kick her off my back. She wrestled me to the ground and we rolled around for a bit before she picked me up and pinned me against a tree. Pinecones fell, many hitting me on the head. I made curious whining sounds.

  She held her cheek to mine, violently, and I immediately became still, eyes bawling.

  “Silencio,” she whispered. “Silencio.”

  What had I become? How embarrassing. I must’ve seemed like a demonic toddler to her. I wished she wasn’t too turned off by my actions. I wanted to impress her, not disgust her! Holding my breath, I nodded, and swallowed the bestial meat, audibly.

  We looked into each other’s eyes.

  Two minutes later, I was gnawing on a zombie’s boiled breast. A whole breast that jiggled like fine Jell-O with each bite I made.

  The nipple was included.

  Happy, I threw it at Barbara, who caught it in her mouth and gave me a thumbs up.

  Fade out.

  Eighteen.

  We slogged for six hours, hiking up many trails and searching through many bushes. There were many undead stool samples to be found, but Barbara deemed it unnecessary. I had already experienced the zombie’s dried dung. Barbara’s main goal was to teach me the ways of the hunter – the steady growth of the sidekick into hunter knighthood.

  At around 9pm, it was time to find a soft place to set up the tent. Barbara excused herself so she could urinate in peace. I said that I’d do the same.

  As I sat on my heels behind a bush and pushed for heaven, a shadow moved – in the darkness between two trees.

  My buttocks shut tight.

  I stared intensely into the woods, slowly zipping my pants and catching my breath.

  A Japanese schoolgirl slouched out from the dark.

  I stood up, embarrassed, and combed my hair with my hands.

  “Hello,” I said, politely. “How may I help you this fine night?”

  She didn’t respond…only looked down to the ground. This girl kept walking at a very slow speed. I knew when she began moaning, and drooling moths, that she was a member of the living dead.

  My heart drooped.

  What a depressing sight.

  How can something so attractive be so dead?

  My mind wandered and I literally had to slap myself straight. Barbara wasn’t too far off. I went to get her as the zombie followed me.

  I asked if we should kill it. Barbara had a plan. She eyed the zombie from head to toe and instruct
ed me to tie back its hands – only its hands – and for me to go to sleep as she took it out for a walk.

  I did as I was told and crawled into our tent, falling fast asleep.

  I woke up at 3am. Barbara wasn’t in the tent. Afraid for her safety, I took a stake and went out venturing for her, flashlight in tow.

  There was a tree in the distance, on a tall hill.

  Figures were on it, moving around.

  I began to hear moaning sounds.

  Scared, I ran back to the tent.

  5am. I couldn’t go to sleep. Barbara returned, so I closed my eyes and rolled over. She yawned and went to bed. Barbara smelt strange. She was covered with a familiar scent – a familiar scent that was now laced with the dead’s perfume.

  5:30am. The wind began to pick up and rattle the tent. I wanted to hurt Barbara. I grabbed my flashlight and stormed out from the tent. It was a noisy exit and I hoped that yes, indeed, she heard me.

  It was raining again, the wind blowing the storm sideways.

  I hugged myself for warmth.

  Soon, I found myself back at that tree under the moonglow.

  The cheerleader was sitting on the dirt, in the nude, her arms tied behind the tree. She wasn’t moving…head bowed…hair swaying to the cool breeze.

  I squatted in front of her.

  She looked so peaceful.

  The zombie sensed me and looked up, eyes totally black. It groaned. I knew that zombies had no emotion other than anger and sometimes confusion…but at that moment, I sensed shame in the beast.

  I exhaled and stood up.

  The thing slithered about, trying to stand.

  I closed my eyes and held my flashlight close to my heart, tightly. I looked up to the dreary clouds. The raindrops felt good, massaging my face.

  Taking a good stance, I gripped her head with my free hand and hit the creature over the skull with the flashlight until it stopped looking at me.

  I threw my red-covered flashlight into the bushes and went back into the tent.