The bizarre macabre adventures of Larry Bobo the zombie Detective

I truly hope no one is offended by this short tale. This is an experiment at humor. Something totally out of my comfort zone. It's crass, sophomoric humor on the pg 13 side. Enjoy, or not.but beware

            The bizarre macabre adventures of Larry Bobo the zombie Detective

                                   By

                Carlos Lorenzo Estrada

     It was a damp and dreary rainy night, because sure ain't they always like that in stories like these?  Anyway, I digress.  It was hella cold north of hells kitchen, but slightly west of uncle Roger's liquor store and about two blocks away past Mrs. Yanovich's Rub and Tug massage parlor.  In a little dive called Count Sukmehoff's.  It is here where we find our wayward stalwart zombie detective, Larry Bobo, heavy on the Dick, but soft on the bone.  He found himself shambling into the club, not because of his rigomortis disorder, because, yeah..he's a zombie, but also because of a bad bout of gout due to his heavy intake of meat in his diet.  He hadn't bathed in weeks, but it wasn't like anyone really noticed. Yet, just out of common courtesy he decided to throw on some old spice and a few spurts of Axe body spray.  The room was thick with a heavy mist of smoke that seemed to linger like an old grandfather's pernicious fart.  Larry felt at home, literally because his office was upstairs and had no other place to sleep since his eviction for six months of unpaid back rent at his old apartment.  But hey, s**t happens in a zombie apocalypse ya know!  Especially, when a bunch of unsanitized A holes refuse to wear masks because "ohhh I'm loosing my freedom to be an idiot and kill you with my disease."  Oh but I digress once more.  Larry chunked a deuce at his cousin Rita who was working the stripper pole.  She was swinging like a hung man due to the heel of her thigh high boot lodged in the hair extensions glued to her rotted skullcap.  She was unable free herself because she only had one leg and arthritis in both her rotted arms.  So the heartless patrons just let her dangle there like a Christmas ornament from a tree that someone was to lazy to take down for 5 months past December.  Rita gave her cousin the obligatory "what up,dude" head nod as he passed her by on the way to the bar.

     

     "Larry, Larry, Larry, my friend, how's it hanging?" Asked Count Butternutts in his soft cooing effeminate voice.  He was the owner of this fine establishment.  He had known the zombie detective for years and would often be the source for unscrupulous information, or advice on creams or salves that treated genital warts.

    

     "Grrrrr....arghhhhh.  Grrr." Larry replied giving a nod toward his swinging cousin on the pole.

     

     "Oh, I know how you feel.  I had the same thing happen to me two weeks ago.  After eating a bad taco...I think she was anemic." Somewhere in the club was heard a rim shot.  " So, what will it be tonight?  Tequila Sunrise? A Manhattan?"

    

      "Grrr...arrrrrg." Larry replied.

    

      "One Bloody Mary coming up!" 

   

       Larry sat at the far corner of the bar despondent and burdened in angst.  How had his undead life come to this, he thought?  He was a good zombie.  Always called his mother on holidays to growl at her.  Brushed his 4 teeth everyday.  He even peed on the toilet seat in the women's bathroom.  He was a good guy, or so he believed.

     

     "Here you go, Larry, one Bloody Mary heavy on the menses."  The count cood causing Larry to eye him with his one good eyeball suspiciously.  "Oh....my.....Gawd, Larry, do I have a delightful joke for you!  Would you like to hear it?"

    

      "Grrr..." Replied the zombie with reluctance.

    

      "Ok...here it goes."  The count moved closer toward Larry leaning toward him.  The gesture caused the zombie to shiver in discomfort.  "Two buffed Chads walk into the men's room after burning carbs at the local gym.  They mosey on up to the urinals and proceed to do their business.  One Chad breaks the man code taking a sneaky peek at his buddy's pizzle drip and marvels to him saying, 'oh my, that is one thick yellow stream, bruh.'  To which his brainless meat head friend replies, 'Chu...I jacked up heavy on creatine shakes and ten protein bars. Muh s**t is swole and sunshine yellow.'  His friend nodded in agreement and replied, 'Righteous, brah!'  A moment past as curiosity got the better of the second Chad and caused him to sneaky peak as well.  He was amazed to see his friend's pizzle releasing the thickest deepest yellow stream he had ever seen which caused him to say, 'Omg, brah your s**t is as yellow as Grandma Mabels sweet Georgia lemonade!'  To which his friend simply nodded in reply, and as the last drop of yellow left his pizzle head he gripped it tight and proceeded to give it three hard thwacks at the back of its neck.  Suddenly, four ice cubes popped from the tip and he turned to his friend and asked...'thirsty?'.   Teeheee.  Get it, Larry?"

    

.     The zombie Detective stood in silence, his single brain cell struggled to comprehend the crux of this riddle.  He was so perplexed it broke him and his one eye popped out of its socket and into his drink.

                                                                                                 

                                                                                           Finis

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

omg you are very perceptive my friend. Yes at my previous job we had our own gym which I often frequented. There were these two guys who would always work out standing in front of the mirrors grunting and heaving. And they talked like those two guys in the joke. Brah, bro, bruh, homies, dude was the majority of words in their conversations. They were good guys though, despite their vanities. But we all have our unique quirks. I actually had fun writing their dialogue. It was something totally different from what I normally write and was very much a challenge. Definitely took me out of my comfort zone. I don't know how comedians do it, but I give them major props. I couldn't tell a joke to save my life.

[mattavelli]

Hello, Carlos! :)
Its a morbid story, and I think its good that you've documented these feelings. Haha
I got a real kick out of when Larry started speaking. And, I take it you dont feel a kinship with the brahs. Haha
Your autocorrect got you a couple times.