The Plague
I got a flu shot today. Zach came in even though he was sick because he hungered for brains. I locked him out and barred the door, telling Kamran to stay quiet and maybe Zach would go eat a designer instead.
“Oh, Jesse, why are you trying to hiiiiiide?” Zach moaned. I peeked around a file cabinet to see a greasey faceprint on the small glass window in the door. Zach’s head thudded gently against the floor.
“I can smell your brain in there, Jesse. You’re so smart, you’ve got such a big brain, oh, it smells so goooood,” he continued. He hadn’t turned fully yet. I saw his palm press against the glass and felt the sound of it cracking as he pressed.
“This isn’t so strong, Jesse. You can’t stay in there forever, I’ll get in there.”
I grimaced and turned to Kamran, who was shivering and pale. I heard Zach moan and pound. How many hours would it be before he lost his sense of self-preservation and ran a diseased fist through the glass or worse: through the two inches of wood door itself?
“MMmmmrmrrrrGHGHHH!!!” Zach bellowed. Suddenly I remembered the revolver that he kept in a drawer next to the bottle of scotch. I swallowed a mouthful of courage as I loaded rounds into the cylinder.
“All right, Zach, I’ve got to get to my physics lab, and I’m gonna need all my brains for it!” I shouted, unblocking the door. What followed was so horrific that human words fail to describe it.
Let’s just say that we need a new designer.
Glorious!
Please tell me he didn’t eat V.Hot
Hmm. She isn’t here.
I can’t officially announce my undeadening. Unofficially, probably yes. But not officially.