So I don't know if anyone is paying attention to what is going on in the news but these "zombie" attacks are wiggin' my shit out.  The coke head in Miami and now that nutter in Maryland.  Two instances in a week that involved someone eating some else.  The kook in Maryland ate his roommates fucking brains and heart for Christ's sakes.  

Something is seriously wrong here.

Let's talk about it.  Why not?  I'm bored, got nowhere to go, got a frosty Blue Moon and some IMonster in my ears.  P.S. You should totally listen to "These are our Children" while you read this so you can get the creepy vibe that I have.  It is truly delicious.  Indeed.

Anyways, lets get on with this since I'm not making any money and most of you have forgotten about this little rag that I was so goddamn diligent about pushing upon you for months.  Sorry, I lost interest or realized  I was a shitty writer or what fuckin' ever.

Sec, need another beer.

K, better.

Ok, the cops shot that guy in Miami like six fucking times by the way.  He didn't give two tugs of a dead dogs cock.  He kept eating that guys face.  The dude in Maryland had his roommates body parts in cookie tins.  Merry fuckin' Christmas indeed.  Also, they took the victim from Miami to the Hospital.  Why the fuck would you do that?  You had the bright idea to kill the zombie but you save the infected victim?  He's gonna turn in that hospital.  Think about that.  All hell and its all your goddamn fault.

Man, this would go a whole hell of a lot faster if I wouldn't need to watch myself type.  How awful is that?  I type like ten words a minute.  Seriously.  I think Emmy can type faster than me. 

I can only feel that this is truly a sign on the End Times coming on.  Soon, we will be surrounded by Spiders as big as cars, Winged Bears and a black pres...heh...ugh...next.

In order to get to the bottom of this, I decided to call in a few favors from some people that don't actually exist except in the context of this story to make it more readable.  Ya see I'm rather boring so sometimes I make shit up in my head, usually on the drive home from work, that I think is fucking hilarious.  Now, I'm going to put it on the internet.

Why?

 'Cause I don't have Diablo 3 yet.

Suffer ye and feel my virtuous wrath.

I called up a scientist friend of mine that I met years ago at a convention in Switzerland.  What kind of convention you ask?

The Secret Kind.  Shut the fuck up.

"Daydream in Blue" is on now. I love these guys.

So I ask my scientist friend, Dr.Tsitneics, what's up with these cannibal shenanigans and he tells me that he thinks it has something to do with Lunar Eclipses, Sunspots and Universal Healthcare.  

Up Yours, Canada.

I mention that I'm beginin' to get freaked out and he tells me about this experiment that he's been working on, something about time and space continuum nonsense.   I proceed to ask him if Scott Bakula is involved or perhaps Jerry O'Connel.  Dead silence.  I move on.  He says that he has found a way to communicate with alternate universes and pipe the communications conveniently through the average cell phone.  I says fuck yea, that sounds tits.

So we find us a zombie universe.  So we can find out whats the deal and stuff.  In an odd turn of events, your personal cellphone number is linked through the Multiverse and every alternate you can be reached with it.  So, now I bring you some answers straight from Zombie Mike.

Mike - Hey buddy.  So, you're a goddamn brain eatin' zombie bastard then?

Zombie Mike - Raawwwrrr bllllaarrrgghh.

M - Aw shit.  Seriously?  Watta revoltin development this is.

ZM - *Chuckles and probably smirking like an asshole* Nah, I'm just playing fucknut.  Yea, I'm a fuckin' Zombie.  Whats up?

M - Am I that much of a dick?  Never mind.  Well, I'm calling to find out why you're a Zombie.  What happened to your world?  What drives you?  Why the fuck are people in my Universe starting to each each other?

ZM - Ok hoss.  One at a time.  I'm a Zombie 'cause some Zombie Bitch bit me.  I was just doin' my good Samaritan thing, trying to help some stranded girl out by giving her a ride.  You know?  Like in the porno movies?  Anyways, she goes all Red Robin on me (Yumm!) and takes a big ass chunk out of my shoulder.  Cold piss indeed.  As far as what drives me?  Pure motorized instinct, man.  Ain't shit else.  Zombies don't make movies or music and they sure as shit don't write books.  I'm bored as fuck most of the time because their are so few meals...people...left that I kinda just shut off and lurch around.  Not like we sleep yeh know?  It's just "Brains" 24/7.  Shit just gets old.  

M - I can imagine.  I'm bored most of the time but I don't eat anyone.

ZM - But you have Rape fantasies.  It's like the same thing.

M - What the fuck?

ZM - Don't lie to me dude.  I'm you.  Just slightly off-kilter.  Besides, who doesn't have Rape fantasies? 

M - ...

ZM - It is what it is.  Fuck, I'm hungry. Lemme check the fridge.  Be right back.  Don't hang up though.  Be a bitch to reconnect.  Verizon sucks in any universe.

M - Fucking rape fantasies....I don't know what the fuck...

ZM -  Shit, only Finger Foods in there.  HA! Get it?  A bowl of human fucking fingers!  Goddamn, even undead I still got it.  Fuck yea.

M - Ok, I don't think I can do this anymore.  

ZM - Pussy.

M - Well, you are what you...

ZM - Don't finish that thought unless you want some seriously nasty details. 

M - Ugh, never mind.

ZM - Alright bro, I think I hear some dumb ass humans creepin' round this bitch.  Gonna get my eat on.  Don't let the man get you down.  Also, watch your back.  Zombie Plague creepin' up on y'all.

M - K, thanks...take it easy.

*Click*

Holy. Christ. Balls.

Soiled: Body Parts

"Wotta revoltin' development this is".  

"El, just shut up for a second.  Please."

Donny looked at Griffon.  Hard.  Real hard.  Like a detective in some Noir novel staring at some dame that just wandered in off a rainy street.  You know the scene.  She comes in all legs and breasts, sits down in his chair and lights a cigarette.  She's frazzled of course but that's the drill.  He's in the corner pouring himself a scotch and hoping that he's gonna get up close and personal with those assets but he knows deep down that this bitch is a killer or thief or some other heinous creature and in about 300 pages shes gonna be stiffer than the front of his trousers.

"I done tol' ya boys.  Find me my heart and I'll usher ya on outta here.  That's it."  said the man in that deep, cigarette and whiskey groomed voice.

Donny looked at Elliot.  Elliot was looking at a crow sitting on a nearby headstone.  If you were to ask him, and of course no one would, he would tell you that said crow was plotting against him.  It was trying to lure him into a false sense of security so it could pluck out his eyeballs like fresh, skinless grapes and gobbled them right down.  

If you were to ask the crow it would agree.  

"Ok Old Man.  So you want me, and I say me because El is about as useless as a pecker on a Pope now, to find your heart for you.  Your solid Jade heart.  Your heart which you lost in some Postmortem poker tournament with one of these stenchy dead fuckers of whom you cannot recall which it was.  Here's an idea, Why don't you just ask them?"

Griffon snorted.  "I cain't jus' go about waking the gawd-demmed dead to ask some stupid fuckin' questions you little prick.  There's rules here just like in every world."

"But you can wake them for a Poker Tournament?"  Donny said is his best smart assed tone.

"Once a Century the Lady of this House allows these ol' Boys and Gals a night of fun.  I do mah best, as Caretaker, to provide them with that fun.  The very least anyone can do."

At the mention of a woman, Elliot returned his attention to the conversation, forgetting momentarily about the crow that was going to devour his facial features.

"Uhm, Lady?  What Lady?  Also, where in the blue green hell are we anyways?  No more cryptic bullshit either you shit kickin' good ol' boy bastard."

Donny shot daggers at Elliot.  Keep runnin' that jack-ass mouth of yours and hes gonna take that away too dumbshit is what he wanted to say but just kept his mouth shut.

"Boy, you best watch yer tone or you'll lose yer head.  Oh, sorry?  Sore subject I'm sure.  The Where is someplace akin to yer Christian Purgatory jus' we don't call it that.  We jus' calls it "The Boneyard" on account of that's all we can see.  Ya see, there's more than jus' Heaven, Hell and Purgatory boys.  There's a shit ton more than you city fed punks with yer Internets and Hybrid cars can even begin to fathom."

"Hybrid cars?  What the fuck are you on about?" replied Elliot.

"Oh, you think jus' cause I'm a dead 'ol cowboy I don't know my shit?  Listen here you dopey lil' fuck, I know enough to fill this whole damn galaxy with more shit than you ever will.  Now, if you can keep that rattle trap of yers shut for five fuckin' minutes I'll let you in on a little of it.  Deal?"

Donny picked up Elliot's head and nodded for him.  Elliot smiled a very nervous smile.

"Alright.  Jesus  Christ up in Heaven.  Ahem.  Anyway, you are here with us in the Boneyard.  This is my little chunk of the Ether.  I don' own it, don' misunderstand me, I just run it for Ms. Lorna.  Sweet gal but don't cross her and she hates smart mouthed lil' fucks even more than I do.  You copy me, Headley?"

"It's Elliot."

"I don' give a fuck if it was Davey Fuckin' Crockett with his gawd-demmed coon skin cap you little shit."

Griffon looked at Donny.  

"Ya see?  This is why yer here.  You have shitty taste for companions."

Donny just shrugged his shoulders.  He knew the man had him dead to rights.  Elliot was his oldest friend, his only friend really, it just seemed like he was constantly getting them into shit like this.  Hell, it was his fault they were here.  If he would have just backed off of that girl in the bar and gone home like Donny told him to they would not be having this strange ass conversation with the friggin' Ghost of the Old West here.

The girl was pretty, that much was true, she was pretty as hell but had that look of trouble.  Blonde hair, red lips and legs that started at the floor and went all the way up to her ass.  Elliot had no chance of walking away from that.  Donny kept telling him it was a bad deal, she looked familiar and so did the man in the pinstripe suit that she was with.  Tall dude with salt and pepper hair.  Looked like a more bad-ass George Clooney he did.  The two of them standing at the bar mingling with some other socialite types.  She was drinking a Margarita and he appeared to be drinking something the color of blood from a tall, slender glass. 

Elliot patiently waited for the man to wander off for the restroom, coke break or what have you and when he did, Elliot pounced.  The girl was very happy to speak with Elliot, hell, she was enamored with him.  She was like some simple minded mid-west girl visiting Hollywood and running into her favorite movie star.  Elliot was floored.  The deal was pretty much sealed.  She said her name was Esme and that she was a Succubus.  Now, Elliot had no idea just what the hell that meant so she responded by saying "Suck My What?  Let's have a drink first."  to which of course she laughed.  Oh, poor man.  His eyes kept telling his brain that she was trouble, there's a fire behind her eyes and her teeth are awfully sharp.  His nose chimed in with an observation that she smelled a little like Sulfur.  Sadly, his Dick was telling this brain that this shit was on like Donkey Kong and as always, The Dick wins.

Elliot turned to Donny and began to motion him to come over when he felt hot breath on his neck.  He turned to kiss tonight's lucky winner and found himself staring into a dark abyss.  The Man had returned.  He was none too happy.

"Excuse me", his voice like velvet dipped in honey, "Can I help you, boy?".

"Naw, this lady here and I were just getting ready to leave.  Gonna take her out stargazing and maybe get some Waffles."  said the drunken idiot,  "Nice to meet you, names Elliot.  That over there is my best bud in the whole wide world, Donny".  

He motioned to Donny and Donny nodded his head and smiled.  This was usually when the fight started.  Now, they weren't Brooklyn class brawlers but they gave as good as they got.  No, not really, it was about 50/50 in truth.

"Pleasure to meet you Elliot.",said the Dark Man in a Game Show host pantomime, "My name is Mr. Syn and I'm the man that's going to shatter your plans".

The world went black.

Soiled: Donny and Elliot

Thump.

Thwack.

Thump.

"Why do you always have to be such a dick-wad?"

Thump.

Thwack.

Thump.

"Seriously.  Why?  What the hell did I ever do to you?"

Thump.  Thump.  Thump.

"Blargh...why do I even try?"

Crunch.

"I don't know why you try", Donny said through a heavy sigh, "It's not like anyone really gives a shit about what you say.  If they did you'd prolly not be sitting here with me in this goddamn graveyard trying to find something worth selling."

Elliot looked at Donny and proceeded to roll his big blue eyes.  In truth they had become more milky than blue as of late but he was not going to acknowledge this.  Women always commented on his beautiful baby blues and that my friends, is called an Opening.

"Got a smart mouth on you for a glorified grave digger.  Wait, should I say grave robber?  It's so hard to keep track of your career anymore.  Doin' whatever shit job pops up because heaven knows yer not reliable enough to have a real one."

Donny snorted and spit out a mouth full of grave dirt.  

"And you call me the Dick-Wad you sanctimonious load?  If I'm such a douche, why the hell are you here he asked again as if someone was blatantly ignoring him so they could hear the sound of their own goddamn voice?"

"You damn well know I have no other choice, Buster.  You and me are tied together.  Now and forever.  Like a good married couple. 'TIll death do us part or whatever."

"You mean undeath I'm assuming?" Donny Chuckled.

More eye rolling.  

"You know what I meant asshole.  See?  This is why you never had any friends back in the Real.  Because you are a dick.  There I said it.  You are a dick.  Do you feel better?  I know that I do with that huge weight now off my chest."

"El...I don't give a shit what you think or how you want to describe me.  You and I are here for a reason.  We screwed up.  We screwed up real big and pissed off the wrong guys.  Guys that don't give you a second chance.  Guys that would just as soon cut off you head or throw you in a river gift-wrapped in a burlap sack."

"I don't know if they were all that bad.  Maybe we could have reasoned with them?"

Donny looked at Elliot, took a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lit it.  

"Elliot...they cut your goddamn head off and threw me in a fuckin' river.  Did you try to smooth them over while they were sawing through that stack-of-dimes neck of yours?  I sure as shit didn't have the chance to do jack while they loaded me into a child molester van and chucked me into the Mighty Mississippi."

Elliot opened his mouth to speak but the words didn't come.  He went to cough but it appears that such a simple action is impossible to one who no longer has a throat.

Donny lowered his head, picked up his shovel and went back to digging.

"Why did you pick this guy anyways?"  Elliot said, using his nose to point at the headstone, "The hell is Mervin Peachtree?".

"Dunno.  Figured that this was as good place to start as any.  Not like Griffon gave us a map and said Dig Here Yeh Poncy Jackasses.  Can you still see or do I need to move that bowling ball head of yours?"

"Please".

Donny stepped from the graves, three feet or so in, and grabbed a patch of black curls on Elliot's head, moving him to the top of the late Mr. Peachtree's headstone.  Elliot grunted in pain as he did this but it was purely reflex.  He couldn't feel shit.  Donny knew this because he was devoid of feeling as well.  Perhaps this happens in death or maybe its something to do with being stuck in this Limbo.  

Who knows?  Someone does but fuck 'em, they ain't here and these dead folks ain't helpin' any either.

"The hell are you looking for anyways, Donny?"

"Jesus Herbert Christ do you listen at all?" said an agitated Donny, "That Griffon guy said we needed to find something for him and he'd let us out of here.  Something he lost to one of these stiffs in a card game but fucked if he remembers what it was he lost.  All he said is that it was the color of Jade and the size of a fist.  I don't know about you but I don't like it here.  Place is giving me the jibblies..."

Almost on que there came a howl not unlike a wolf only larger.  The howl was followed by a rustle in a nearby bush and the clang of the padlock on the cemetery gate as it blew in the wind.

"The hell are we anyways?" Elliot whispered.

Dark, heavy laughter came from behind the boys and Donny jumped with a start, swinging the shovel backwards and knocking Elliot from his perch.

"SONOFABITCH!", Elliot shrieked.

A tall, slender man in a dirty brown trench coat stood before them.  Silver strands of hair hung beneath a hat that he must have stole from Indiana Jones.

"You boys, y'all got yourself in a sticky bit o' trouble yes ya did." Griffon said in a voice that he clearly stole from Sam Elliot or vice versa.  "Little feller over there should have kept his gawd-demmed hands to his gawd-demmed self.  Would have kept yeh both alive if yeh weren't such gawd-demmed fools.  Now lookit yeh.  Stuck here in Limbo as a dead drowned boy and his severed head pal.  Ha!  Watta mess you two jerk-offs are."

"Uhm...hey Griffon...we were just talkin' about you man.  Any chance you can lend us a hand findin' this thing?"  Elliot said through chattering teeth.

"I'll give yeh a heads up as it were boy, but first lets talk about this place and what yer gonna do ta get out."