zombies

“Another pale morning in Crapville,” noted TJ. Crapville had a population of around 300, all of whom had nothing to do. It was the kind of town that one would go to in order to die during the next corn harvest. All meandering was done in the historic district where the occasional tourist would stop to buy a soda and use the restroom. The balance of whispers and the wind set a ghostly scene for any passerby, the town was a hollow drum of sounds with-out a player rocking in between void. It wasn’t a boring calm it was the calm some people would die for when trying to think aloud.
 TJ was 21 always bored or preparing for the zombie apocalypse. Calm never fit him, since his childhood he was always creating an elaborate fantasy to get lost in. His muscular physique set him apart from the 300 some odd 80 year olds in the town, and was the only one with the any color in his hair. A black color set off by the occasional gleam of light looked like that of the color in between stars when you blinked. He had many theories on how the apocalypse would start. His next door neighbor was one, Adam, he collected old radioactive clocks and would always come out hunched over like a ball without the bottom quarter. Adams hair was always pointed towards the skies like Albert Einstein's, except cross bread, with a plant that was always desperately reaching for the sun. At night TJ would hear adam screaming, “eureka,” or muttering quietly to himself.
 On this day though, rainy skies loomed over the small brick home sitting on the corner of 2nd street and 2nd ave. TJ’s home was left to him by his parents after their sudden death, he was 16 when it all happened. Without code enforcement TJ was left with all the freedom to alter the home as he wished. It was full of guns varying from 9mm’s to older model snipers.
 The rain offered quite a distraction from the humdrum aura engulfing the town drip by drip. TJ was just looking out the window trying to pass the time until he had to go to work.  The town blurred into oblivion with every single dot that formed on the glass. The water would take in its surroundings and leave aberrations in its wake. Despite waters redundant nature it always seemed mysterious to TJ. His face was fixated and it was the sight of water drooling with gleams of light running down the window pane that drew him from reality at this time. The refracting shades of grey seemed to absorb every passing cars color.
“Was that red? Maybe green, hmmm…” TJ was a deep thinker. His hazel eyes reflected back him as he looked towards an oncoming car. TJ worked at the local slaughter house, loved to: cut, smash, and basically obliterate his art pieces. He would always bring a hunk of meat home at the end of the day and then store it in his fridge. “Oh a dump truck!” Beef was his favorite thing to bring home, always covered with wax paper and a strange rose twine. “If I see another Mazda…” TJ sniffed at that comment and looked towards his winery.
The winery had been a pet project for quite some time. With over 100 bottles on the shelves it would be no easy task to finish he thought. Just then a creaking sound came from the winery, then a crash, a series of grunts, and then a growl unlike anything he has ever heard. Could this be it he thought, finally a zombie would walk right in to his house and threaten his very freedom. His eyes slid off the window panes screen of colors toward the encroacher. His dream was about to come true, cutting into human flesh, zombie flesh he thought.
 “Claurice!” uttered the trespasser. Darn TJ thought, it was TJ’s best friend, Sarah. “Have you been working on your growls and how did you get in here?” TJ asked. Ever since the cut offs at the local slaughter house, Sarah was the only one still around to laugh at. Sarah ran the deliveries, TJ cut the meat, and her father owned the whole thing.  TJ had been waiting to squirt her, since the day he met her father for his first interview, at “horse head meats.” TJ was waiting and he could wait no longer.
 Sarah slowly creeped around the corner in a mask made up entirely of chicken skin. She made a slurping sound with her slippery tongue pressed against the bottom lip, “Claurise,” she squealed. Her face had gotten used to the feeling of the wet chicken leather as it pulled vacuums on her face every time her facial muscles shifted. He is going to laugh his head off when he sees me, Sarah thought. TJ was a hard person to sneak up on, but she had been perfecting her “ninja” skills, as she would say.
 TJ looked over and caught a glimpse of her boots in the mirror of an old wine bottle that was sitting in the far corner of the room. “Hahaha, lame, that movie is so old,” TJ started to inch backward towards his pet plant (shrubbery,) to offset whatever insanity she was about to bring into his home. She must have been waiting there for over an hour TJ thought. The shuffling of shoes and pants was all that shrubbery heard for the next 15 seconds.
“ARARRGGH…….AAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!……….what the heck you perv,” yelled Sarah. TJ was hiding in the corner, with a super soaker poking through the middle of the shrubbery. His aim was dead on and now Sarah was covered in blood. TJ was rocking both sides of the shrub with a simple shoulder dance causing the leaves of the plant to bounce in all directions. He watched the chicken skin hit the floor like a pile of wet fish. “Split the bushes my friend, next time don’t bring flies into my house,” said TJ. Sarah was smiling ear to ear, her pale white teeth peered past the vibrant reds. TJ always loved her smile, her dimples would peer on four corners of her face. She would smile for anything, mostly from the wicked and cruel torture but the occasional joke got her going to. The blood and the chunks of clots made her look like she just came out of a mud pit.

“My hair is so silky smooth!” yelled Sarah “and when my father, Jim, finds out… he’s going to cut your femur out.” The ground looked like a massacre of blood on the concrete floor stained with wine and blood. TJ acting like a real sales man pointing out that, “well, I see you’ve had a problem… Have you ever considered liability insurance? Back in the old days pressure washers would do the job, but now a days I’m not so sure.” He casually looked from her toes to her eyes with his eyebrows raised. Sarah ran up to TJ slowly, hugged him, and then whispered in his ear, “It’s time to go to work.” She had him right where she wanted him like always, destitute and without a ride to work.