Zombie Story (2011 hits)
Category: HumorRating: 1.67 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by McMuffin (View user info) at 2004-05-09 13:42:40 EDT
Frank turned quickly and glanced behind him. He could see next to nothing in the alarmingly dark night. There was a rustling in the bushes. A scratch, a thud. A temporary trickle of sweat flowed down between Frank's eyes. He leveled the shotgun towards the bush. The movement caused the lamp that was hanging from the shotgun barrel to swing wildly. The shadows danced and retreated from the swinging light.
The bushes convulsed from movement within. A blur darted behind the leaves, just out of the light's range. Frank twitched nervously. Frank saw a whooshing movement. Something struck his head. Frank reeled backward. The shotgun discharged.
Dampness soaked Frank's back. His heart was pounding rapidly; each beat made him painfully aware of the bandaged gash on his arm. Frank opened his eyes and looked out. He was on his back on the ground. The rain watered grass cushioned him. Cold and reassuring.
It must have been a bird that hit him. Yeah, that must be it, Frank thought. Just a bird, just a bird. Through the careful manipulation of his leg muscles, Frank regained his standing position. They didn't seem to agreeable. Frank tried taking deep cleansing breaths. In with the good, out with the bad. In with the good, out with the bad. In, out. Deep breaths.
"I should head back..." Frank mumbled to himself. He turned and trekked in the direction of the cabin's light.
Tripping and stumbling, Frank made himself a clear target in the silent night. He didn't care, though. He just wanted to get back to the cabin and the others. Anything to keep this terrible fear away.
He regretted offering to get supplies from the car now. He didn't want to be out here all alone. With a shotgun? How would that help? He quickened his pace back to the cabin.
Suddenly Frank's face was inches from the ground. He had fallen in his preoccupation with other thoughts. His arm flared with pain. He noticed his hand no longer held the shotgun. More importantly, it no longer had the shotgun that the lamp was attached to. Frank still wasn't sure why they had done that. It seemed to make sense at the time.
Frank searched for the gun/lamp amongst the thick undergrowth. Surely it couldn't have fallen too far. Yet, the more he searched the more he got turned around. Soon he wasn't even sure where he had fallen.
"Fine!" he shouted.
He sprinted back to the cabin. Leaping over anything in the way. He was breathless by the time he reached the door. Much to his horror, the door seemed to be open already. Instead of happy friends there meeting him, he found a ransacked room. There had been a struggle. The table was knocked over. Chairs overturned. He scouted the three room building and found no one. Luckily, he had found no bodies so they might be alive out there somewhere.
I should have never touched that book, he thought to himself as he surveyed the scene. Nothing good can come from a book titled "How to Summon Zombies to Kill a Young Band of Vacationing Teenagers." He felt cold, clammy hands on his neck.
"Brains..."
Frank shivered as the cold hands clutched at his neck. No, it wasn't going to end like this. They wouldn't take him so easily. He took a deep breath and twisted sharply, wrenching his body free of the hands.
"Bloody...! You broke my arm! God!" his attacker wailed. "You don't know how annoying that is!"
Frank turned to face his assailant. A crumpled figure leaned against the wall of the cabin, curled into a near fetal position. The person was inspecting his arm. A white bone protruded from the person's pale flesh.
"Oh God... I'm sorry. I... I thought you were one of the zombies," Frank muttered lamely. "You really shouldn't just sneak up on people and grab them while groaning 'Brains'. It's just not polite. I mean, I bet you wouldn't like it much if someone just came up to you and grabbed your neck and started saying brains. It's really annoying as a matter of fact."
Frank bent down to offer what little help he could provide. He squinted at the wound. It was a nasty fracture. Frank was secretly impressed at the damage he had done. 'Guess I don't know my own strength,' he thought to himself.
"Well, at least you're not bleeding too bad... hey, you're not bleeding at all... so pale..." Frank recoiled in horror. "You ARE a zombie!"
"So what? Does that mean I don't have feelings!" the zombie retorted.
"NO! I mean, YES! You're the living dead sent to feed upon the brains of young college students out for a vacation away from their families with no contact with the outside world! Of course you don't have feelings!"
"Now that's just rude... you don't have to say things like that. I can tell when I'm not wanted around here."
"Well, if you're so in touch with your feelings then why were you trying to eat my brains?"
"I was just looking, I wasn't going to eat them. Just looking. That's all."
"What the hell's this then?" Frank exclaimed as he pointed to a patch of chewed hair.
"Alright! So I have a problem! I'll admit it. I'm strong enough to admit when I have a problem..."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm addicted to brains..."
"Now that's just ludicrous."
"I didn't make fun of you for letting all your friends get eaten!" wailed the zombie.
"I bet you had some part in that."
"Well... maybe one, she was just so tasty. And the glow sticks she had made perfect toothpicks."
"You bastard! You ate Stephanie!"
"So what if I did! That's in the past now! I'm never going to eat another brain again! I swear! I'll get counseling and go to support groups. I just never want to feel the terrible guilt again!"
"Fine, shut up. I'm tired of hearing about this. Let's get out of here. We can get to the car and then get you some medical attention or something."
"I've had worse. Death is much worse."
"Just go."
"Fine, no need to be pushy." The zombie clambered to his feet, Frank helped him up. They started the dark, lonely trek to the car. They heard a bird caw in the distance. Moonlight filtered through the trees overhead. Somewhere, a leaf fell.
"Just how many zombies are there around here?" Frank asked.
"You should know, you summoned us," the zombie snapped. "Who in their right mind read spells from a book titled "How to Summon Zombies to Kill a Young Band of Vacationing Teenagers" anyway?"
"I thought it might make things a little less boring around here."
"Not the brightest bulb in the box, huh?"
"Listen, my name's Frank Boringson. I've had a very, very, very, very boring life up until now. I don't know how it happened but I seem to be cursed with boredom. Nothing I've ever done has been the slightest bit interesting. I thought maybe this would put a little extra spice in life. I wanted some excitement but this is a little much. Leave me alone, I'm new at all this 'not boring' stuff."
"Fine fine."
"Just get in the car." They had arrived at a red Camero. They climbed in.
"God, you reek," Frank stammered as he fumbled for his keys.
"Sorry, I'd do something about it if I weren't so undead," said the zombie.
They slammed the doors. The engine started and the Camero sped away into the unday.
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Several weeks later Frank Boringson's body was found in a crashed red Camero somewhere in the Californian Redwood forests. It was obviously the work of a psycho because his skull had been scooped clean of his brain. His face was locked in a look of surprised horror. His body was reclined, leaking some blood over the top of the seat and into the back. Mostly the blood had congealed around the body. The flesh was in it's first week of decay. There were rival colonies of maggots now living in his hollowed out noggin and in the muscle of his left arm. It seemed as if there had been a wound and it had been tied off with some crude cloth. Now the cloth had come loose and the maggots had moved in. It was all very strange. Most baffling to the coroners, however, was a note they found on Boringson's back. It read:
"Dear Frank:
I am sorry I ate your brains. It is the last time I will ever
eat luscious human brains again. I really will get counseling this time.
Your friend,
Zombo"
Authorities dismissed the case as a renegade lunatic. No suspects or witnesses were found. There was no further investigation despite a wave of similar killings in the surrounding area.
User Reviews
Submitted by smokingman (user info) at 2004-07-28 03:09:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Somthin' bad is about to happen to you...
Submitted by Ben at 2004-06-13 04:42:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I really liked it...the whole twist of fate thing was pretty cool...and Zombo reminded me of my favorite site, zombo.com
Submitted by Vermin (user info) at 2004-06-13 04:41:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
McMuffin???? Goddamit I want to give you a -2 for that fucking queer username but sadly this post is too good.
Submitted by Avals (user info) at 2004-06-13 04:25:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This rocked my proverbial boxers... Here's your +2.
Submitted by transcendent (user info) at 2004-05-28 12:32:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Outstanding
Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2004-05-27 17:09:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I checked this out based on what you said in the "underground" post...and I don't regret it!
You should check out my POW story entitled "POW - When Ten Became Nine."
Submitted by legallady (user info) at 2004-05-22 18:58:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 on seven reviews. Thanks to most heated hitwhore post!!!
Submitted by My_dixie_wrecked (user info) at 2004-05-09 21:43:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Funny. By the way, dont see Zombies vs. Vampires. Shittiest movie that ever shat.
Submitted by CunningVision (user info) at 2004-05-09 17:51:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked this. Poor, addicted Zombo.
Submitted by Jeriko2k3 (user info) at 2004-05-09 17:11:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Great Story, can't wait for the sequal.
Submitted by Falconer (user info) at 2004-05-09 16:02:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
heh.
Submitted by mystiamoon (user info) at 2004-05-09 14:58:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked this.
Submitted by AlwaysAnEagle (user info) at 2004-05-09 14:21:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I imagined the zombie singing "Addicted to Love" for some reason. Awesome.