Attractive Zombies: AN UNLIKELY HAZARD FOR THE LONELY SURVIVOR
or
Shuffling Happily Ever After
Look, I know she's dead.
Dead sexy.
I see her shambling by every day. I don't know where she goes, but in my mind it's some sort of zombie lingerie party. You know, all of the zombies that used to be lingerie models get together and drink cocktails and talk about whatever. Maybe there's a sexy pillow fight. I'm not sure. No... there's definitely a sexy pillow fight.
Of course I don't really know that she was a lingerie model. I don't know much about her at all.
Hey, when you live in a sewer and have one book to read by candlelight, you get a little lonely. What do you want? The rats are my only friends, and I have to eat them sometimes. Shit gets a little twisted in the zombie apocalypse.
Usually I can watch her well enough by pressing an eye up against the opening, but sometimes I need to lift the manhole cover and stick my head out to spot her. On those days I have a half jar of old crisco to slick my hair back and I make an extra effort fixing myself up in a car mirror I swiped.
I look back through my diary sometimes. For months there were these unintelligible scrawlings. They don't mean anything.
*Day 143
I'll need to venture out for supplies again soon. My candles are running low, and I'm down to three half empty tins of tunafish. I'm drinking sewer water again. That can't be good. Frankly it tastes like zombie. But everything tastes like zombie. Because everything smells like zombie, I figure. It's just that it hasn't rained in weeks, so the makeshift rainwater catchers I have hanging from the eyeslots in the manhole cover are tapped out. Luckily Herbert brought by a bit of pizza crust. It's moldy and clearly it had been soggy for a while, but it's drying out. It should be good. Hopefully I don't get too sick this time.
I need some candles, too. Remember to find candles.
Day 165
The loneliness is crushing. Sometimes you forget that the zombies aren't people. You want to go out and say hello, maybe ask one to get a drink with you or something.
Specifically I noticed something was definitely wrong with me when I began checking out a particular female zombie. She would have been a gorgeous woman before all of this. Which wasn't really that long ago. She still looks Nevermind, what am I thinking. She's a zombie. I need to keep it together. A zombie. She'd bite you... and wow, I'd let her bite m
Aright, enough.
Herbert's been great, but I think one of the other rats bit him. Still, he's a trooper. Brought more pizza crust today. I suspect he has a stash somewhere and that's what the fight was over.
Day 177
I've been slicking my hair with a can of Crisco I found two blocks over in an old apartment building. You know, to impress Angela on runs or when she's playing hard to get. Damn good find. Not sure what I'd do without it.
Herbert crawls onto my head and licks it all off at night. It's kind of funny. But we've got a good thing going, me and Herbert. I talk to him about before. I talk to him about Angela. He listens, you know. He actually listens. He doesn't say a whole lot, but the best kinds of friends don't. Anyway, he's the silent type.
Good old Herbert.
Day 197
I've had to eat Herbert. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but he brought by a bundle of yarn today. It was a nice thought, I guess. I can't eat yarn.
So I roasted him up with the last of my candle and had rat stew for dinner. Which was mostly rat and sewer water. I imagine people picture that when you say the words "rat stew", anyway. Something else in there, too. Not sure what. Much needed ruffage.
That's it though. No more food, no more water, no more candle light. No more Herbert. Just me and an empty sewer.
All I have left is her. The beautiful goddess in the torn black dress. What a sight.
I think I'll say hello tomorrow.*