Zombies'n'S**t Ep. 2

The Graceful Dead

I hate my friends.

Carl laughed at my sour expression and helped me up. Dusting me off with his severed hand, Carl and I watched as the group around us dispersed. “You know,” I commented, “One of these days, I will get the last word.” He chuckled, “Yeah, sure. When Hell freezes over, amigo.” I looked at him plainly, “Dude. We're dead.” He thought for a moment, “True, at this point really anything is possible.” I grunted noncommittally.

Carl and I headed to the plaza that the majority of the dead congregated. As we approached someone engulfed in flames walked past us. Even though we were used to rotting flesh, burning flesh was still pretty hard to handle. “Hey guys,” Timothy paused and turned towards us, “I hear we might be attacking that survivor group on east fifth; you know, by the fondue place.” I groaned, “Seriously? Goddammit. I hate attacks, last time I was part of one of those, I got a face full of bird shot. I was picking teeth and lead out of my brain for a week! Then the a*****e turned and had the balls to crack a joke about it.” Carl looked at me, “Wasn't that the bank attack? S**t, so that was why you pushed that guy into the sewer.” I nodded, “I also cut off his hands and tossed them in a garbage can on the surface so he couldn't climb a latter.” Timothy hissed in a breath, “Dude, harsh. The sewers are a b***h to get out of. Not to mention the dead down there are freaking nuts. I heard they eat their own regenerating flesh with raw sewage.”

I shook my head, “You need to stop listening to Doug. He was a politician before, remember? HE is the one full of s**t.” Timothy shrugged. Carl covered his nose, “Put yourself out, man, you're pretty potent yourself.” Tim walked away, muttering his retort.

We turned back to the plaza and plunged into the crowd. The center was a “modern art” piece. A series of hollow squares laced together. Perhaps at one point it was cool, but now, it is just a giant stack of bunks for the teeming dead. As we weaved through the swarm, I caught a glimpse of someone I knew. Looking back to Carl as I broke away, I spoke loud enough for him to hear me, “I'll catch up with you later. Ask around, see if we need to participate in this attack.” He nodded and called back as the crowd carried us apart, “Sure, meet me by the burrito stand in an hour.”

I skirted around groups of the dead talking, playing around, fighting and doing just about anything to entertain themselves. I finally pulled myself out of the dense central plaza and over to a cafe that was set up to look rundown, but had plenty of tables and chairs. Moving underneath an awning, I walked to a woman sitting at a table alone, reading. I plopped myself in the chair across from her.

She looked up at me, dark matted hair shifting. “You have a piano key lodged in your head.”

Author's Note

I kinda want to do this. All episodic and the like.

Reviews

[C. Rose]

The dialogue is fun and lively which is a stark contrast to the rotting flesh.
Funny how "you have a piano key lodged in your head" carries a hint of romance perhaps.

[unspokenguilt]

They're flesh regenerates?!...interesting. I like the bit at the end of this episode (girl pointed out piano key)

[wagonburner]

Not so suave, eh? Also, yes. The feature will be explained (sorta) later.

[unspokenguilt]

Suave enough.