I name King Splutch. I is Zombie King. I have girlfriend named Queen Sploosh. She Zombie Queen. Once I human. Once I eat peecha and ice cream, and make laser noise with mouth. Now I eat spleen and liver. Most of time, only noise from mouth is annoyed groan. It go: “raaaaawr.” Fun in beginning, but quickly get old.
Many years ago, Splutch and Sploosh (when still human) wander through forest. We stop to help small-penis accountant. He bite us both and run away. If human is bit by small-penis accountant, then human turn into zombie. Does not matter if accountant is zombie or not; they all have zombie cootie.
Rest of world quickly become zombie. Many people carry zombie cootie, not just bean-counters. Also Emo-poets, corporate management, Grammar Nazi, hipster, Douche-bro…all who justify ugly genital and lack of intellectual with stoopid buzzword and trendy horse puckey.
I turn to Queen Sploosh. “Mrrrrr?” (Would you like to mash nethers?)
She give me disgusted look with giant empty eyehole. “Nrrrrrr.” (NO! Our junk smells worse than a fifteen year old boy’s unwashed sock after several years of leaving him on a desert island with a lifetime subscription to myfriendshotmom.com! What are you—STUPID???).
I hang head. Little piece of Splutch die inside. “Ruhhh.” (Okay.)
She walk away. Splutch and Sploosh relationship is on rocks. Hard to keep hubba hubba alive without making sex. In human world we probably break up, but now no one left but gross zombies, so we stay together.
I reach down to pet Splutch’s doggie. He once named Bitefighter, but is now zombie dog. His new name Organs.
“Rrrrrr.” (Good dog. You were always the best of us; I’m sorry it had to come to this.)
He respond: “Arrrrr…roooo…rowf.”
I don’t know what he say. I once understand Doggy, but now am too stupid. Single tear slip down Splutch’s cheek. Quickly disappear—it absorbed by gross flaky skin.
Organs shamble over to old eReader. What the brains is Organs doing? Then he begin shaking. Shake-a-shake-a-shake…his gross skin fall off. Wait a second, he not zombie! Was only disguise! Organs is still REAL DOG!
Zombie instinct take over and I lunge at doggy. “RAAWWWWRRR!!!!” (FRESH FUCKING MEAT!)
Organs open eReader to Echo, activating reality distortion power. Magic flash.
Ethereal faces stream from eReader, surrounding Splutch with indescribable, shimmery beauty. They sing in heartbreakingly gorgeous choir:
“This isn’t you, Kent…you weren’t meant for this…you were meant to finish Echo 4 and write other books: The Unbound Realm, Kor’Thank: Barbarian Valley Girl, The Rarefied Tightrope, the detective noir that takes place on the astral plane…”
Splutch squeeze eyes shut and cover them with fists. “Ruuhhh. RUUUUUUHHH!!!!” (No…NO! Leave me alone! Can’t you see I’m a zombie now??? I’ve made my peace with it…I can still do accounting…just leave me—)
Tendrils of blue-green radiance travel up and down my form, enveloping me in iridescent blaze. I see flesh mending all across my body, turning my desiccated skin healthy and pink. Muscle ripples across my torso and limbs, restoring me to my former hirsute glory. My junk turns from the foul, rotted horror it has gradually become into the pringles-can sized, worship inducing flesh-mace it once was. (Can’t help but check to see if it’s still cut—yep, just wanted to make sure I didn’t gross out the ladies with a smegma-collecting anteater).
I see Queen Sploosh—sorry, Soccer Mom Prime—shambling toward me and Bitefighter, a hungry gleam lighting in her eye. Before she can trumpet out the Zombie cry for fresh meat, she’s engulfed by an outpouring of light. She protests at first, just like I did, but is quickly restored to her former splendor. Once her transformation is complete, she holds her hands out at chest-level, palms turned toward the sky. and stares at them both with widened eyes, as if seeing each one for the very first time.
Her eyes meet mine and she manages: “I’m…I can’t believe I…I’m…”
I stride toward her and stop her with a kiss, bending her back like the sailor in that iconic WWII photo. She closes her eyes and hungrily returns it. When our lips part, a mischievous sparkle lights up her face.
“Want to mash nethers?” she asks.
I’ve just spent years eating raw human and watching my body go full-on Evil Dead. What do YOU think?
But alas, this is where the story ends, because a true gentleman doesn’t mash nethers and tell others about it. You can use your imagination to figure out the rest.
Have you spent years as a sex-deprived zombie, held back by an inevitable onslaught of entropic rot? Never fear! Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here: Vol. 1 on Kindle. Vol. 2 on Kindle here: Vol.2 on Kindle Vol. 3 on Kindle here: Vol. 3 on Kindle #kindle #kindleunlimited #sciencefiction #scifi #books #novel #book