MicroHorror

“And I swear that stupid shit zombie was on the floor looking for its cock,” said Frank, and he and his friend Sam burst out in drunken laughter. “So what’s the funniest, most fucked up thing you ever saw a zombie do, Sam?”

“There was this one time outside Reno at this little nursing home,” Sam said, downing another shot of Crown Royal. “There were some kids in our camp that had gotten sick and needed some antibiotics. Hospitals are deathtraps, so we figured an old folk’s home would have what we needed with a lot less rot-bags trying to eat us, and if there were they’d be gimpy old farts. Well, no such fucking luck! By the time we got halfway in they came at us and in about three heartbeats I was the only one left. I blasted away with my shotgun and pistols till they were empty. There was one zombie left. It was this fat, bloated old lady. She wasn’t one of those lardballs that needed a scooter to get around Wal-Mart back in the day, more like a plump gran’ma. Anyhow, she comes right at me, and with no ammo and my back to the wall I kick her, right in the gut! As soon as my boot hits her she lets out the loudest, wettest, and chunkiest fart I ever heard.” Frank bust out in loud uncontrollable laughter. Sam was laughing too but at the same time shushing his friend. “There’s more.”

“What do you mean, more? Did she slip on it and bust her skull so you didn’t have to?” asked Frank as he lit another cigarette.

“No, man, it got kind of weird after that. The old lady, she grabbed her ass with both hands and I swear she looked embarrassed as hell. If she weren’t already dead I think that would have killed her.”

Frank took on a serious tone and asked “No shit, man?”

“Way too much shit! All out her ass,” replied Sam and the two were nearly on the floor in laughter. A few minutes passed and the two friends recovered and were wiping the tears from their eyes.

“Sam, when did things this fucked up start to seem normal?”

“Beats the hell out of me, buddy.”

The two friends got quiet and listened to the groaning mob that had gathered outside. There had to be a few hundred of them now and they all wanted only one thing: the flesh of the living. Frank picked up the .44 Magnum from the table and said, “If we drink too much more we ain’t gonna be able to do this, and I sure as shit ain’t gonna end up like them.”

“Well, who goes first?” asked Sam, taking another shot.

“I dunno. Tell you what. Let’s flip quarters for it and have one more round.”

“Sounds good, Frank. You pour. I’ll flip.”

And the night ended much as it began, with a couple of shots shared between friends.