Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Today's theme: Zombies! (not as good as tigers, but they're okay)

This post has been majorly zombified. You are warned, if you're here for the story.

I wrote a book review and dated the post for August, but it still posted today. I have now deleted it, and I guess I'll just re-do it on August 1st (I have my reasons, LOL!). If anyone knows how to do that whole post-dating thing, let me know. And no, I'm not talking about being friends with your ex after the break-up. Because after we break up, you are fucking dead to me. But not actually. Like zombie dead. Which means that if I ever see you out again, I will be sorely tempted to put a spike through your brain.

And yay! It's Three Word Wednesday! Remember that you don't need to blog to do it; if you've got a LiveJournal or Deviant Art account, do it there, and go back to 3WW and link. Your words, if you choose to accept them: abuse, cramp, hatred.


Twist of Fate

You can only abuse a body for so long. At some point, it's going to rebel.

Across from me, Janie sips her mocha, legs crossed, one foot jittery. She smiles, lips pulled tight over her teeth. I'm holding my index finger, twisting around and around it.This isn't going well. I knew it. I never should've come, never should've let Rob talk me into this. I mean, it just can't work.

I tried to be presentable. Extra Aramis to cover the smell of putrefaction, a Mariners hat to cover the hole in my skull (I don't care what they say, I am not getting cosmetic surgery -- that hole marks the day I got undead!), and two sneakers even though I've only got one foot. Duct tape is truly wonderful stuff. I saw this article the other day on keeping your ribcage intact using the stuff and...

Janie is horrified when I babble on about the miracle of Duct tape. I can't help it; when I get nervous like this, I tend to go on and on. I change the subject. She doesn't golf. Next. Her favorite movie star is Mel Gibson. What? Doesn't she know -- oh, it's a joke. I laugh. My tongue almost falls out. I stop laughing. It really wasn't that funny, anyway. Bad timing. Like, you can't make Michael Jackson jokes yet.

She asks where I work. Now she's just being catty. She knows how hard it is for us to get work. No one wants to hire someone who might eat their other employees, which, I would like to state, hardly ever happens anymore.

I feel like my poor finger is cramping, but I'm getting worked up, and I can't stop twisting it. Rob's my best friend, and he probably meant well, but he should've known that lifers and undead just don't mix. And this is why. I'm trying to have a conversation, be brilliant, show interest, and what is she doing? Sitting over there, looking at her watch every two minutes.

I ask her if she likes to cook. She says she should get going, she has to be somewhere. I say that my mom used to cook all the time, like, every night. Spaghetti, pork chops -- I'm babbling again. Her eyes fall to the table, and she freezes. I look down. Sure enough, my finger's come unattached. I'm just holding it in my other hand -- which, let's face it, isn't in that great of shape, either -- and she's staring and I try to casually tuck it up my sleeve, but it's too late.

She pushes her mocha away. "Disgusting," I hear her mutter under her breath as she stands. She won't look at me. I say, please, please stay. But she's getting her purse, her jacket. And that's when it hits me.

The red. We call it that. When you just can't be like them anymore, no matter how hard you try, and something breaks inside you. You look at them and see red, red, red. Pure, focused hatred. You're consumed by it.

Janie doesn't notice the change, because she isn't noticing me anymore. I say her name. She starts to pass by me. I grab her arm, and her head whips around to snap something at me, but then she sees. She notices me, finally. She's actually looking me in the eye for the first time since she sat down at the table. I feel the panic hit her, hard. And I yank.

I pull and claw and rip, and when I'm finished, the whole coffee shop's silent. I stand over her, gnawing on a mouthful of Janie's cheek, when the little bell goes off. We all turn. It's my ex, Sarah. She pauses, looks at what's left of Janie on the floor. Snorts. Then she goes up to the counter and orders a vanilla cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso on the side. Minutes go by. The barrista hands it to her with shaking hands. She comes over and gives me the shot. I do it. Caffeine doesn't do anything, but the liquid sears my tongue and that feels good.

"Idiot," she says. "Come on." We go out into the parking lot and make out in her car. I don't know why I ever broke up with her.

*

Another reminder! xTx's Zombie Summer is on-going. Today's entry, Bob and Steve Coming Together by David Backer, ripped my brains out and replaced them with a car battery. I feel pretty good about this.

18 comments:

  1. *sigh* I do love your zombie fic...

    The shiny silver disc makes its way, once again, into the slot on my machine. Over and over, in and out, shiny silver discs coming and going. I wonder how much longer the DVD player can take the abuse, but somehow its life ebbs on.
    Bob and Wendy are singing again. The cramp in my head is too much. I hate you Scarecrow Spud.

    :D

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  2. Oh man, this is absolutely, twistedly hilarious. Laugh-out-loud lines, some shock and ick, then a delightful twist ending. Thoroughly enjoyed.

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  3. Sara: Question: As a mother of four precious and perfect little beings, do you ever feel like a zombie? And do you ever say a prayer that Barney isn't on anymore? (he isn't, right? RIGHT?)

    LOL. Oh, woman. Cramp in your head, indeed.

    Thomma Lyn: Thanks for reading! I'm glad someone found it hilarious. It was supposed to be funny, but you know how that goes sometimes.

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  4. Dear R.S. Bohn,

    I really don't know what to say.

    Shock, delight, anticipation, delight, shock, more delight, worry that things couldn't get better, and, relief, they do.

    Go away for four months and more crazy-talented writer folk come over to 3WW.

    Wowsers...

    ...wowsers.

    Thank you very much.


    Where did I start really laughing out loud? "she's just being catty ..."

    I mean I liked the first sentence, but sentences like that can go so terribly wrong in execution... and I did worry a bit about campy clichés (although I wasn't really expecting zombies, not like yours).

    I snorted at the Aramis, and the memento morii of the head... and the commonness that there were plastic surgery treatments to mask it...

    But your catty line had me, and from there it just got better and better.

    Thank you so very, very much.

    Tschuess,
    Chris

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  5. Hilarious! Can´t help but feeling sorry for the poor, terrible guy. Have no sympathy for Janie so I guess this whole lack of morality paired with rawness suits me. Love "lifers" and "the red". Those terms seem perfectly fitting, not too exaggerated and "stand-outsy" as is often the case with this kind of stories.

    Thanks for sharing =)

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  6. wow wow wow wow, and then somewhere, a whoa slipped in too :D awesome pacy narration..!

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  7. Hahaha.
    That is beautiful.
    Anyone who knows me knows that I am a zombie lover. This was was beautifully executed, perfect timing. Made me laugh, cringe, ack!, and hunger for more all at the same time.
    Kudos.

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  8. @K: Thank you, fellow zombie lover!

    @Leo: Wow and Whoa -- you talk my language. Thank you so much!

    @Asuqi: You are so right. I've been playing around with some sci-fi and fantasy in the last year, and it's those names and phrases that stick out like sore thumbs. I was trying to be as mundane as possible this time, make them sound natural. Glad you thought it worked.

    @Chris: Dear Chris, Thank you so much. You've made my day. *mwah* *mwah* *mwah* Sincerely, Rebecca

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  9. Nicely done R.S. Bohn!

    This never lacked in humor and entertainment throughout. Great idea, concept, unique POV, I loved his nonchalant manner when the finger falls off. I hope this was as fun to write as it was to read!

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  10. Thank you, Jay! It was actually a lot of fun. And the finger part is my favorite, so thanks for mentioning it.

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  11. OMG, B! This was fanfuckingtastic!!!!!!!!

    I saw the entire scene play out in my head--it made me laugh, the lines were spot on perfect, and I felt bad for a fucking zombie!

    Just brilliant!

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  12. Buwhahaha Love love loved this - in fact, I'm sending the link to my daughter who is a zombie freak. The duct tape got me - gives a whole new meaning to duct tape being able to fix anything!

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  13. @Shell: You think it's brilliant! Awesome! (how was the plot? LOL!!!)

    @Dee Martin: Zombie freaks unite! Or as much as we can unite when we're stumbling around, groaning and moaning. Thanks!

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  14. That's an awesome story; very well written. Zombies are people too! I love how the straights in the coffee shop react. Perfect.

    Lately I have Zombies on the brain. I want to write a Twilight parody where Bella has to choose between Edward the flesh-eating, brain-obsessed Zombie and Jacob, the hirsute Native American Sasquatsch. She's so kinky!

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  15. @Chirs: DO IT.

    Also, Kinky!Bella is so much more exciting than repressed virignal!Bella. And I'm Team Hirsute, all the way! ;)

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  16. R.S. Have you considered submitting your story to the Vampire/Zombie/Monster anthology here? http://www.notreebooks.com/submissions They purchased one of my stories. I bet they'll LOVE yours.

    I haven't written my big full-on Kinky Bella parody yet, but I did write a 100-word drabble here. http://chrishugh.blogspot.com/2010/07/drabble-alien-vs-predator-twit-light.html

    I call it Twit-light. (I bite my lip. I chuckle. Stupid chuckle.)

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  17. Actually, no, I hadn't. I'll look them up this morning. Thank you so much.

    A v P? Nooooo! This I must see!

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  18. I wrote a Zombie story with a couple shout outs to this one. It's called "Love in a Trash Can." http://chrishugh.blogspot.com/2010/08/love-in-trash-can.html

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