“We don’t use the ‘Z’ word” – a 200 word story

Of COURSE I had a will when I died.  Left everything to my wife.  She doesn’t want anything to do with me now.  Guess I can’t blame her.   Comets pass the Earth all the goddamn time, and don’t do anything but give cults a reason to off themselves.  How the fuck was I supposed to know this one’s different?

Shit, I’m just glad I went from a damned heart attack.  I don’t smell too pretty, but at least I’ve got an intact brain.  There’s a reason you don’t see too many accident victims or stroke patients looking to get back into the world.  A little too close to the Romero standard, y’know?

Anyway, now that the dead are back and looking for work, they’re taking all the jobs that the illegals and high school kids used to take.  Well, not fast food.  We’ve got some standards.  The guy that owns this place, his kid drowned in their pool, so he’s got some sympathy for us Post-Mortem Americans.

So that’s my story.  Now, unless you want me to eat your brains, I humbly suggest you buy your smokes and lottery tickets and get the fuck out.  Thanks for shopping at Z-Mart.

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Published in: on March 10, 2010 at 9:42 pm  Comments (1)  

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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. I miss your stories. Also, this reminds me to recommend American Gods to you if you haven’t read it already.


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