The next day, she awoke to find her guts hanging
out. But she was still able to move, and she hobbled to the house.
She didn’t know what she would find there, but she was
desperate.
“Aw, you poor kitty,” the old man said as he
picked the furry zombie up. “Come live with me, and I’ll clean you
up.”
The old man was nice, but not as good as her
Sally Lou. She only got dry kibble, the cheap stuff, and sometimes
he forgot to feed her. He often didn’t look where he was walking
and would step on her paws. She normally just hid under the
bed.
Two years later, the old man died. When the
paramedics took his body out of the house, Fluffy set out to find a
new home. She wandered for days when a group of college kids found
her.
“Hey guys, check out this cat, I think it’s
dead.”
“No wait, it moved. I think it’s a zombie.”
“Let’s take it in to the vet, it looks like it
might be somebody’s cat.”
The doctor scanned the cat and found an
electronic ID chip that said the cat’s name was Fluffy and that she
belonged to Sally Lou. They called Sally’s mom and brought the cat
over.
“Fluffy!” cried the seven year old little girl.
She picked the cat up properly this time and nuzzled her nose
against the fur. “You need cleaned and brushed,” she said.
Carefully, and with her mom’s help, they cleaned up the kitty and
brushed her matted fur out.
Fluffy found her spot on Sally Lou’s bed and
fleece blanket, and purred her little undead heart to sleep.
****
No Swimming
It was
a cold day for the middle of July. The beach that should have been
filled with sunbathers was empty. Instead of bikinis, the few
people on the beach were wearing jeans and jackets.
The clouds had crowded the sky all day, and a
thin mist was hanging in the air. Some vendors were still in their
booths on the boardwalk, but many trailers had their overhead doors
pulled down over the counters.
Since the wind was blowing hard, the waves were
big, and the water was rough. Even if it had been warm enough to
swim, the life guards had posted no swimming notices everywhere.
The sea was just too choppy.
The docks were full of anchored boats. Every
once in a while, some sailors would come out, check on their boats,
test the wind and waters, and decide to go back home.
One couple walked along the boardwalk with no
jackets or umbrella or any other protection against the weather.
The mist turned to rain drops, pelting against metal roofs with
tinny clangs. But the couple happily walked along, hand in hand,
like it was a pleasant summer’s day.
They stopped at a lone hot dog stand which was
struggling to keep its umbrella up in the wind. With the fully
loaded foot long hot dogs they got, they also got a basket of fries
each and the largest cup of soda. When they paid, they gave the
stand owner a huge tip and thanked him for staying open.
Together they sat on a bench looking out at the
water, eating their soggy hot dogs. The few seagulls who were out
in the terrible weather got rewarded with rain drenched french
fries.
After finishing their lunch, they went to the
only open ice cream stand and shared a dipped cone. Somehow they
got it eaten before the rain wet the cone too much to hold the ice
cream.
Not only did the cute couple stand out by acting
like it was a beautiful day while getting drenched to the bone, but
they looked different from anyone else. With an open wound oozing
from her forehead, and him missing half of his right arm, it was
quite obvious that both of them were not so recently deceased. But
they were pleasant and courteous, and the shops they visited
couldn’t have asked for better customers.
The man at the other end of the pier was very
different. He was wearing a raincoat and boots. His face held a
permanent scowl. The shopkeepers avoided him and hoped he wouldn’t
come into their shops.
He tromped through a mall, which was busy since
the shoppers were protected from the weather. People stepped out of
his way, and he stomped by. Through the mall to the deserted end of
the pier, people knew to stay out of his way.
Once he got to the pier, he walked all the way
out to the end and climbed on top of the railing. He stood there,
facing into the rain and wind.
The zombie couple walking hand in hand finally
made their way to the far end of the pier. They strolled to the
end, and sat down on a bench to watch the waves some more.
“Honey, what is that gentleman doing?” asked the
wife.
“I’m not sure, but he looks like he doesn’t want
to be disturbed,” said the husband.
Then she said, “Oh no, I think he’s going to
jump!”
“Wait, stop!” the husband called out, but it was
too late. The man let himself fall over the edge.
“With those waves, he’ll be crushed to death,”
cried the wife.
The husband ran as fast as his undead legs would
take him, jumped on top of the railing, and swan dived into the
dangerous water below.
He opened his eyes under the water, knowing that
they’d be filled with salt for days now, but he didn’t care. The
water was cold and dark, but he thought he could make out a shape
sinking to the bottom. He swam over and reached through the water
and managed to get a good enough hold on the form.
Because the zombie no longer had natural
buoyancy to float to the surface, he had to kick up against the
waves to get out of the water. He hoisted the man above the surface
so he would hopefully get a breath while the husband swam towards
the shore.
He pulled the man up onto the beach and started
doing CPR. The man coughed up water and began to breathe again. An
ambulance drove up on the beach, and paramedics jumped out to take
over.
The zombie wife caught up with them on the beach
and ran into her husband’s arms. A policeman came up to them to
take a report, and together they relayed all the details.
After the commotion was over, they drove to the
hospital to check on the condition of the man they had saved. They
found him sitting in good condition in a hospital bed, just there
for a few hours of observation.
“Thank you,” he said. “I had lost all hope and
faith in everything and just wanted to end it all. For someone I
didn’t know to save me like that, especially someone who’s... well,
who could be worse off than I am. Thank you. I never thought a
Zombie could be so kind. Thank you.”
****
Quite A Pair
I was
on my way to work on a brisk fall morning. Since I was running
late, I had missed the first bus. I could still make it to work on
time if the bus was exactly on schedule, but only if I ran the two
blocks from the last bus stop to my work.
So I was already impatient as the clock ticked
away and there was no sign of the bus. At a quarter after, I looked
to the end of the road, hopeful to see the shape of the bus in the
distance. It was nowhere to be found, but I did see a shuffling
figure coming up the crossroad.
It couldn’t walk very well, but I could tell
this person was going as fast as they could. As he got closer, a
raspy man’s voice called out and asked for the time. “Seven twenty
one,” I yelled back to him. The bus was late.
“Have I missed the bus?” he asked.
“No, it’s running late.” “Unfortunately,” I said
under my breath.
“Oh good,” he said, “I may just get lucky today
yet.”
I turned my back to him as he shuffled up. In my
impatience, he was painful to watch. Finally, as he reached the
corner, the bus came down the road.
Other people had gathered during this time, and
I rushed into the bus in front of them. Maybe I hoped the bus
driver would decide they were too slow and take me straight to work
so I could get there on time.
I sat behind the driver and glowered at the
other patrons, taking their time to count out their coins. One lady
couldn’t find her bus pass and nearly emptied her purse to locate
it. When the zombie’s foot had stepped on the first step, I said to
the bus driver as nonchalantly as I could, “What’s the chance do
you think we can make up some time?”
He rudely said, “I’m going as fast as I can
buddy,” and pulled the handle to slam the doors shut and stepped on
the gas.
In his haste, he hadn’t realized the zombie
wasn’t all the way in, and the zombie’s hand got caught in the
door, severing it at the wrist. The hand dropped to the ground as
the bus drove away.
Quickly, the zombie used his teeth to pull the
glove off of his remaining hand, and threw the glove out the
window. The he paid the driver and sat in the seat across from
me.
“What did you do that for?” I asked.
“Do what, lose my hand?” he said.
“No, why did you throw your glove out the
window?”
He smiled patiently and said, “So when someone
finds my gloved hand, they can take the other glove, and have a
pair. Maybe it can help someone who isn’t able to afford a pair of
gloves on their own.”
****
Family Movie Night
All of the kids were so excited to see the
new animated movie, Little Red Riding Hood. In fact, parents were
excited too. In the back of their minds, they always wondered when
the major production studio would bring out a version of the
childhood favorite.
The first night was the busiest, and only the
people who had bought their tickets in advance could get in. Each
evening and weekend showing was sold out for two straight
weeks.
Finally, it slowed down, and the movie was on
its last week in the theaters.
It was a weekday matinee showing, the cheapest.
The weather outside was rainy, and school had started for the fall.
I was working the ticket counter, and I was bored out of my mind. I
had cleaned everything that could be cleaned, and even got on my
hands and knees and swept in the corners under the counter.
Finally, I resorted to playing Solitaire on my cell phone.
I was in the middle of another losing game when
a family of four walked in the door.
The dad was wearing a baseball cap with the city
logo on it, and since sometimes the trash guys got off early if
everything got picked up, I assumed he was from the sanitation
department. He was wearing a crisp, clean t-shirt that looked like
it had been ironed. The jeans he wore were bright blue and must
have been brand new.
Mom looked haggard and tired. Her blonde hair
was pulled back in a ponytail and she was wearing sunglasses. The
sleeveless shirt she wore didn’t quite match the long skirt, like
she had put her own clothes on in a hurry as an afterthought.
But the kids were the cleanest and best behaved
kids I ever met. The little boy was probably about 5, old enough
for morning kindergarten. His jeans were as blue as his dad’s, and
he was wearing a small polo shirt.
As cute as the little boy was, the little girl
was absolutely adorable. She looked slightly younger than her
brother and was the picture perfect little girl. With her little
pink dress and patent leather shoes, she looked like she had been
pulled out of a movie.
The dad walked up to the counter and proudly
said, “We’d like four tickets to Little Red Riding Hood please.” He
laid a pile of crisp dollar bills on the counter.
As they started to walk through the turnstile, a
well dressed gentleman walked in. He wore a hat, a nice brown suit
jacket, a white shirt, freshly pressed Dockers, and penny loafers.
As hard as he tried to look nice, he couldn’t hide the fact that he
was undead. His dress shirt now had spots where he was apparently
oozing through. He walked with a limp, and I could see a bone
poking at the slacks. His cracked lip dripped onto the lapel of his
coat.
I pulled myself away from the zombie, stopped
the family from entering, and said, “I’m sorry sir, there’s only
fourteen dollars here and your total comes to twenty-two
dollars.”
The proud smile on the dad’s face fell. “What do
you mean? Kids are three bucks and adults are four dollars,
right?”
“I’m sorry sir,” I said, “that changed a while
ago. Children’s tickets are five dollars, and adults are six
dollars.”
He put out his hand, and I sadly put his money
back in it.
As they turned to leave, the zombie gentleman
said, “Wait.” He turned to me and said, “Five tickets to Little Red
Riding Hood please.”
He paid, handed the tickets to the family, and
motioned for them to go through the turnstiles.
“Thank you,” the father said.
The mother, wiping tears from her eyes, added,
“Thank you very much.”
“My pleasure,” he said, and followed them
through the entrance.
I watched the family head for the first theater
on the right, where the movie was showing. The zombie stopped them
and said, “Don’t you need sodas and candies and popcorn? My treat.”
They followed him over to the concession stand, where each kid got
a box of candy and a child-sized drink, and the parents each got a
tub of popcorn and a soda of their own.
I smiled for the next hour and a half, thinking
of the kind gentleman’s generosity. After the movie, all five of
them emerged together, and the zombie was carrying the little girl.
The little boy was running ahead, giggling.
As they walked toward the doors, I asked, “Did
you enjoy the movie?”
The mom replied, “Yes, very much, thank you,”
while the kids nodded their heads and said, “uh huh!”
I called after the zombie as he opened the door,
“Please come again!”
****
African School
Like many other zombies, unlife hasn’t treated
me well.
Unlike some other zombies, I decided to make the
most of this. I was out of work and living on the streets, so I
volunteered for missionary work in Africa. It was harder than I
expected, since I’ve never been a religious person.