MicroHorror

Laura Eno lives in Florida with her husband. Most of her time is spent writing, reading and practicing Tai Chi. She has written two YA fantasy novels and a paranormal romance. Her strange muse is often supplemented by weird conversations with the cats, who allow her to share the house with them. Visit her blog at lauraeno.blogspot.com.

July 27, 2009

Zombies Inc.

Larry hid behind the dumpster in the trash-strewn alley, trying to decide which of his blunders had sealed the planet’s doom. The street remained quiet, the odors of garbage long since dissipated in the absence of fresh offerings. A sheet of newsprint skittered by, its headline heralding the end of the world. Larry glanced at the date on the sheet–about three months ago.

A year ago, he’d been on top of the world, living the good life. His latest invention, a robot zombie doll, had been introduced to toy stores around the world. The kids loved it and the manufacturers couldn’t keep up with demand. It even had an interactive website, where people could download new commands for the doll.

It all seemed to go downhill overnight. The woman who approached him in the bar, the quick trip to her hotel room–he should have smelled a setup. His wife served him with divorce papers next, complete with notice to strip him of all worldly possessions, glossy photos of his little infidelity attached.

Then the lawyers descended. The head locust offered to put him in touch with a company who could liquidate his assets quickly, enabling Larry to settle for a far lesser amount in the divorce. It seemed like a good idea at the time and Larry agreed to meet with their representative.

He signed away all rights to the robot zombie doll that same day, but never saw his money. A day later, the cute little robots began receiving their new programming, devouring their unsuspecting owners while they slept. After that, the zombie dolls took to the streets, claiming every warm-blooded creature they encountered.

Larry had managed to elude them so far, but he knew it was only a matter of time. A glance down the alley confirmed his suspicions. A whole army trundled towards him now, red eyes glowing and mouths clacking. It came to him then, which blunder exceeded all the rest. He should have beaten his wife to the punch and filed first.

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