by Michael Kingswood
Includes Bonus Story – Who Ate My Sock?
A Chat Before Dinner - Copyright © 2011 by Michael Kingswood
Who Ate My Sock - Copyright © 2012 by Michael Kingswood
Published by SSN Storytelling at Smashwords
Cover Art Copyright © 2011 Renphoto/istockphoto.com
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Table Of Contents
It's a hard life, being a zombie.
No, really. You try one day finding yourself craving, not that awesome filet from the local steakhouse, but a nice flank cut from the neighbor down the street. Let me tell you, the steakhouse filet tastes much better. So why not stick with that? Why go the human route?
Believe me, I tried, but there's just something more satisfying about man flesh. I suppose you could say it's an acquired taste. But not just any hunk of human will do. At first, I tried just going to the morgue, but that about killed me. Yeah, bad pun I know. But seriously, that cold, dead meat just played havoc with my guts. And if, God forbid, they've already started the embalming process? Formaldehyde is NOT a pleasant taste at all, and it burns going down. Better to starve. No, fresh warm human is the way to go.
Of course, everyone has their own taste in this matter. This guy I know over in Rock Hills Cemetery loves it really rare. If it ain't still kicking, I don't eat it, he says. But me, I prefer it more on the medium side. Right on the edge of passing on, but not completely dead yet. It gives the meat a little extra zip, if you know what I mean. Now, my girl, she won't touch it until it's fully dead. Says she doesn't like it too bloody. I guess I can understand that. But no one, and I mean no one, will eat it after it's gone totally cold.
Do I feel bad about it? Sure, sometimes. A lot more at first than I do now, of course. Every so often though, I'll be eating some hot broad, and a part of me will realize, hey, she's actually HOT. Or she would be, if I still looked at humans that way. I mean really, I'm no pervert here, but I remember how it was back before I changed. Sometimes part of me regrets depriving some human fellow of the pleasure of her company. It only lasts a second, of course. I mean, you might feel bad for eating a deer or a cow for a short while, but you don't dwell on it. Survival of the fittest, the natural order, right? It's no different with me.
What's that you say? It's NOT part of the natural order? Well, let me get to that in a second.
The other bad part about zombie life, is of course, the accommodations. I mean really. Crypts, sarcophagi, open graves...these are not fun places to hang out.
The vampires though, man, those guys have it made. They've got their own mausoleums, plush felt-lined coffins, human minions and guard dogs. Do we get any of that? Hell no. Just try convincing a human that it would be glamorous to get turned into a zombie and see what how he reacts. Being laughed at like that is NOT good for the ego, let me tell you. But somehow those vamps have humans lining up like sheep for a shot at the prize. Stupid fleshlings don't know what they're missing.
And of course, Dracula and his boys are always rubbing it in our faces too.
I tell you, it's a conspiracy. The man just goes out of his way to keep us zombies down. Well, we're not gonna take it forever. One of these days, the rank and file of the undead world is gonna rise up, and ol' Vlaad will WISH he'd shown us more respect. Just you wait.
But getting back to my point, it gets freaking cold in those places, man. And it's wet. Plus, there's bugs out the wazoo. And sometimes in the wazoo, too. Let me tell you, THAT is uncomfortable. And a bit gross, to be perfectly frank.
Speaking of gross, that brings up another annoying thing about zombie life. It gets really tiresome to have little bits and pieces fall off.
Yeah, yeah, I know. We're walking corpses. We rot. But what you humans don't know is we also grow back. It's this tiring cycle of rot, fall off, grow back. Rot, fall off, grow back. Over and over and over again.
I could accept it if all I did was slowly rot away. Hell, back when I was human that's all I was really doing anyway. It was just on a longer time scale than your typical zombie rot. But now, I go through a whole set of skin every week or so, and my other soft tissues, about every month. It makes it really hard to pick up the zombie chicks when your tongue falls out of your mouth.
I lost out on two prime catches that way. I mean, we all lose parts every day or so. Did I complain when Sheila's ear fell off into my food? Hell no! But man I lose one pound of flesh and she says I'm going to turn into a skeleton if I don't take better care of myself. You believe that? A skeleton! Those dudes ain't got nothing on me, man! I tried to tell her that, but she just gave me the finger...literally...and stormed off.
I hear she's with JuJu down by the old dungeon now. That condescending prick. Just cause he was a prize fighter or whatever back before he changed, and managed to stay fast and strong, while the rest of us hobble around all day... Whatever. Fortunately, my current girl is more understanding than the others, and I'm very happy with her. She appreciates me for who and what I am.
Which I guess brings me back to your little question. It's appropriate, I guess, since it illustrates the single worst part about being a zombie: having to deal with the constant, unending bigotry from you humans.
Maybe it's just your way of dealing with your inferiority. I guess I can understand that. You are, after all, our prey. It must make you feel insecure.
But really, just because we tend to shamble around doesn't mean we're weaklings. And just because sometimes our vocal chords have rotted out and the only sound we can make is a pathetic groan doesn't mean we're stupid. Sheesh, my roommate was a PhD, for Christ's sake! I mean really, if you let him, he'll talk your ear off, literally, about the intricacies of quantum mechanics, and the leading theories on how to merge it with relativity, or some such. I dunno much about all that, but I'm telling you that guy's smart. And he can cook, too.
Look, I understand how stereotypes get started, and that they all have some basis in truth, however small. But seriously folks, would it kill you to sit down and talk with an average zombie BEFORE making a movie about us?
Ok, I guess it would. Probably.
But that's not the point.
I mean, where do you guys GET this shit? Seriously, brains? Brains? Who the hell goes stumbling around with their arms stretched out in front of them, moaning "brains" all day? And who the hell actually eats brains? No one I've ever met. Really folks, it's called research. It would take all of five minutes to learn this stuff.
But then you guys can't seem to do the minimal research it would take to learn that spy satellites are not in geosynchronous orbit over the United States, or anywhere else for that matter. Do you have any idea how high geosynchronous orbit is? Good luck getting good pictures from there, dude.
And while I'm on the subject, you just can't get real time video, complete with thermal imaging, off them. Neither can any jackass cop just call a Navy Lieutenant to get data from one of these satellites whenever he feels like it, just because he happens to be the bad-ass ex-SEAL she's banging, so he can get a nice deus ex machina assist in solving the case that's stumped him for the last forty-five minutes of prime time television. He especially can't call her from a cell phone and expect to get an answer when she's deep inside CIC on an aircraft carrier. Way the hell out at sea. Seriously? Where the hell do you think the cell towers are for that signal? Sheesh, you freaking humans. See, it's that kind of stupidity and laziness that pisses me off and makes the movies you people try to make about us suck so bad. Really. Do your homework for a change, people!