Damn it, not again. There I was, on the floor, dead as a doorknob. Again. Damn that book. Memories of that night ran through my head as I dragged my own corpse to the furnace.
We had been drinking. A lot. Then that goth kid showed up. Saying he was creepy would be the understatement of the year. He walked into the bar wearing a cape, holding it in front of his face like a vampire or some shit. He walks up to the bar and orders a Bloody Mary, of course.
I mean, I was happy to just leave the creep to his creeping; but my buddies were really drunk and wanted to mess with him. So they go up and Chad (God he's a douche) went to start a fight with this goth kid. The goth kinda hissed at him and walked off. Chad gets one good shove in the goth's back as he walks off. The goth kid stumbles and falls. As he scrambles back up to his feet I see something fall out of his pocket. Goth kid runs off and I grab the book he dropped. I tried to give it back to him, but I think he thought I was Chad (douche) and sped up.
So I got home that night, book still in my pocket. I was bored and starting to sober up, so I decide to do some reading. It's probably poetry, I thought, I can appreciate a good poem. It's weird though, I can't remember what I read that night. I can barely remember the name of the book. Necro Norman or something like that, real goth sounding.
But ever since that night I come home and find myself, dead, on the floor. I have to keep burning the bodies or they get up. I think they want the book. I was just throwing them in the old quarry down the road at first, but then they started multiplying. So yeah, I might have caused a clone zombie apocalypse, sorry about that. Anyway, if anyone knows this goth kid tell him I still have his book.