A Brief History Of The Zombie Apocalypse

Me: Know what the problem is with zombies?
Her: This should be stunning.
Me: They’re just not dead anymore. Not superhuman, just not dead. So why is there always a “rising from the grave” scene? That’s impossible.
Her: And that’s your problem with zombies…


A Brief History Of The Zombie Apocalypse

While it was true the virus reanimated the dead, the reanimation took longer than anyone would have ever expected. The result was, in fact, anticlimactic in the face of the causal pandemic. The staggering numbers of the dead forced mass burial and incineration in many parts of the world (of note, nobody seemed to care what happened on North Sentinel Island). The reanimated dead, it turned out, were merely that, the reanimated dead, endowed with neither superhuman nor supernatural strength. As a result, the recently buried and entombed thumped and clawed at the insides of their caskets or beneath the ponderous bulk of earth and concrete and those buried communally with them. Thus, they remained recently buried or entombed. So ended the zombie apocalypse.


I often hear my next door neighbor’s radio through my kitchen wall. Often it’s jesus-y. One day I heard, “If you’re on the internet, you’re looking right at the Beast.” Sometimes I blast Iron Maiden to retaliate. Sometimes I just play around with words.


A man dozes off in front of his computer. When he awakes, he finds he is hopelessly entangled. He struggles to extricate himself. As he exhausts himself, he thinks, “Maybe if I just stay still, nothing will happen.” To his dismay, he feels small vibrations in the sticky threads which ensnare him. A dark form moves. The man thrashes about, crying, “Let me go!” This merely wraps a number of gluey cords more tightly around his arms, legs, and neck. “But I have a wife and maggots to feed!” he screams. A spider the size of an elephant appears.

Face Off

In the past, I’ve read this in public. I don’t any more. Too many people were coming up to me saying, “That’s so cute. It’s so sweet!” I’m not sure what these folks were hearing. To me, this is neither cute nor sweet. Never has been. I was going for dark. Can’t win ’em all.


Face Off

The father says, “Come into the kitchen, so I can wipe your face off.” His small daughter prances in, chocolate pudding smeared around her mouth. Obediently, she looks up. The father rubs her face with a damp paper towel. “Your face doesn’t seem to be coming off, dear,” he says and rubs more firmly.

“Daddy,” the little girl protests, “I don’t want my face wiped off.”

“You’ve been wearing that face all day,” the father says. “It’s time you changed it. We can’t have such messes when Mother gets home.”

“But I haven’t got another clean one,” the girl whimpers, tears in her eyes.

“There, there,” the father sighs. “Let me wash your face. You can borrow mine.”

“It’s too big,” the daughter argues. “It’ll look funny.” She giggles.

“Only until yours dries, darling,” the father says, fastening his face loosely over her ears. The girl pushes it onto her head like a hat.

“I’m going to my room,” she says with a suddenly mature look. “I have something on my mind.”