Brains for the Zombie Soul (a parody)

by Michelle Hartz

  Of course, as time went on, I eventually made friends and started to fit in a little. One day in the lunchroom, I mentioned to one of my friends that I didn’t like Mandy. Then I got a tap on the shoulder. It was Mandy. She had been standing at the vending machines right behind us. “Tonight, meet me under the bleachers at the football field.”

  Word spread around the school quickly that afternoon. I had no way to get out of it. So after school, right outside the building, a mixture of both zombie and human students lined the sidewalk that lead to the fields.

  Right before the bleachers, Mandy and her friends met me. She stepped out in front with her friends behind her. “I heard you say you don’t like me.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “You don’t like me because I’m a zombie.”

  “No,” I blurted out. “That’s not true!”

  She pushed me, and I stumbled, but I didn’t lose my footing. “What do you have against zombies?” she demanded.

  The crowd was getting angry, and I felt anxious. “I don’t have anything against zombies! I like zombies, I just don’t like you.”

  The crowd got more excited and amiable, but still gave out a unified, “Ooooh!”

  “Oh yeah, pretty girl,” she said, pushing me again. “Tell me then, what’s your problem with me?”

  Not finding any other way out, I finally said, “I tried to be friends with you. And you’ve been nothing but mean to me since I got here. I wanted to like you, but you wouldn’t let me.”

  The expression on her face changed. She lost her confidence, and it was replaced by a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She pushed me again, the hardest this time. I fell backwards to the ground, and she walked away, followed by her entourage.

  The next day when I went to Spanish class, I sat as far away from her crowd as I could. They didn’t say anything to me or make eye contact.

  Then in Biology, as usual, I got there before Mandy did. I sat in my usual spot in the back. She came in and sat right next to me. I had intended to ignore her, but she said, “Hey Kelsey, how are you doing?”

  I was shocked speechless. Finally I said a quick, “I’m fine,” before the teacher started taking roll.

  During class, the teacher had us pair off to do a project, and Mandy immediately scooted her desk over next to mine. “Will you be my partner?” she asked.

  “Um, sure,” I said.

  She was the smartest person I had ever worked with. We got the best grade in the class.

  By the end of the year, we had become great friends.

  (back to TOC)

  ****

  Slaves

  “Get him,” the zombie hunters screamed.

  The zombie ran in fear down the alleyway. He got lucky, and the alley ended at a parking garage. He ran inside and hid behind a van, hoping his pursuers would think they lost him.

  “Where’s he at?” he heard them say.

  He held his breath. It wasn’t as if he needed to breathe anyway; it was just a natural impulse. “Go away,” he willed.

  “I saw him jump over the wall. He’s in here, somewhere over there.”

  He heard the voice speak in his direction, and the footsteps started coming his way. He darted out from his hiding place and headed for a stairwell. Running up as many flights as he thought he could before they saw him, he ascended to a level with only a few parked cars. These seemed to be the permanent parking places that people leased. He picked a delivery truck to hide behind.

  Unfortunately, the hunters figured out her was on this level. “He’s right over there,” one said, and they began to walk in his direction.

  He ran to the opposite stairwell, but there was someone waiting for him. “Ha ha, gotcha!”

  A van pulled up next to them, and they loaded the zombie in the back and sped off.

  He was taken to a large warehouse full of cages and stuffed into one. A man who held himself with confidence and arrogance walked into the room. He inspected the zombies in the cages, pointed to the newly captured zombie, and said, “He’s in good shape. Let’s use this one.”

  He was pulled out of the cage, tied up, and blindfolded. They led him through a series of halls and into a large, loud room. When they pulled the blindfold off, he found himself in a large cage on the floor of a makeshift auditorium. Bleachers were assembled all around the cage, making him the main event in the middle.

  A man, shirtless and shining with sweat, entered the cage. From somewhere behind him, something hit the zombie over the head. He spun around, angry and confused.

  While the zombie’s back was to him, the contender punched him between the shoulder blades. He spun back around, and the man punched him in the face. When he put his arms up to protect his face, the man grabbed an arm, pulled it behind his back, and pinned the zombie to the floor.

  The zombie lay limp, hoping that meant the fight was over. Instead, the contender grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the floor. Once, twice, and when his head was being pulled back again, the third hit was interrupted by the sounds of a megaphone.

  “Everybody freeze! Put your hands up!” The man released his grip on the zombie and climbed off of his back. “This is a raid. We know about the illegal zombie-fighting ring. Everyone, file out this way in an orderly manner.”

  An officer in plain clothes came into the ring and said, “Hey there buddy, it’s okay now. Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up.”

  (back to TOC)

  ****

  Zombie Dungeon

  “Oh god, please stop,” the man screamed in pain.

  He was chained to a wall by his neck, secured with padlocks. Although his legs and arms were free, that didn’t do him any good. The chains were too high for him to sit on the ground, he was forced to stand. He could reach the chains, but he could do nothing to get out of them. His captors wouldn’t come close enough for him to reach them.

  The wall was stone, and the room was large and open. Every twenty feet there was another set of chains, and most of them had occupants.

  Any time of the day or night, men in black uniforms and red armbands would come in, pick a subject, and run “tests.” They would hold clipboards and use various items on the men. Usually, that meant hitting the men with various items like crowbars and baseball bats, or shooting them with crossbows, nailguns, and tasers.

  The last thing Sergeant Riggs remembered before waking up in the dungeon was being attacked out in the field. When he walked by a tree, an enemy soldier ambushed him from behind and bit him on the neck. It shouldn’t have been a life-threatening wound, but he found his energy slowly winding down until he was too exhausted to move. He fell to the ground and died lying on his back, looking directly into the sun.

  Now he was undead and chained to a wall in a cellar. A “scientist” was back, just staring at him this time. Once again, Sergeant Riggs tried to speak. His tongue had been swollen since he died, and it was hard to enunciate. On top of that, his captors spoke only German, and he spoke only English. This made them treat him as if he were dumb.

  The man in front of him went away and came back with a bucket full of baseballs. The baseballs were dirty and stained with what he guessed was blood. Sergeant Riggs’ favorite game was baseball, and it sickened him to think what the scientist was going to do with the balls in the bucket.

  The man in the black uniform picked up a ball and threw it as hard as he could at Sergeant Riggs’ legs. He tried to kick the ball away, but he missed, and it hit him right on the knee. He screamed out in pain.

  After making another note on his clipboard, the scientist aimed another ball at his chest. Riggs caught it this time. Before he had time to react, the scientist whipped another ball at his chest. If he had still had breath, it would’ve knocked it out of him. Instead, it merely caused him pain and made him drop the ball.

  Then the man picked up a fourth ball and aimed it at his head. Before he could throw, he was interrupted by the sound of commotion coming down the stairs.
They heard shots, and a body in black uniform and red armband fell down the stairs. The rest of the scientists picked up the weapons near them and rushed to the stairs. The prisoners saw them fall down the stairs one by one, and the ones that could, cheered.

  Soldiers in green fatigues with the American flag on the sleeves flooded into the room. Sergeant Riggs was joined by the other captives calling for help. A soldier found a hacksaw and went to work on Riggs chains, all the while saying things like, “You poor man. I’ll get you out of here brother, just hold on. What did these savages do to you?”

  Soon, all the captives were released and the soldiers took them back to safety.

  (back to TOC)

  ****

  Idleness Brings Want

  The bard was sitting on the riverbank, playing a song for summer. He attracted the ladies, who would spread blankets in the grass and watch him play. His songs were sweet, and his looks were handsome. He had lush blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

  When he wasn’t playing and singing, he would take off his jacket and flex his muscles, and the ladies would swoon.

  Every day while the bard lounged in the grass, a zombie would work in the nearby field. He would pass by with the tools to sow the fields and toil away every day.

  The ladies would complain to the bard about the ugly zombie trudging by. He would make too much noise, which would drown out the bard’s guitar. He was too ugly, and they just wanted to see the good looking bard. He worked too hard, and it made them tired watching him.

  “Come here, Zombie,” said the bard. “Rest and listen to my music. Surely you can tend the farm later. The crops won’t stop growing if you take a few hours off.”

  But the zombie ignored him and continued with his work.

  One day, the ladies baked cakes and brought them to the riverbank to share. The zombie was hard at work planting seeds in the field.

  “Come here, Zombie,” said the bard. “Rest and have some cake. Surely you can tend the farm later. The crops won’t stop growing if you eat some cake.”

  But the zombie ignored him and continued with his work.

  On a particularly warm summer’s day, the ladies changed into swimsuits and swam with the bard in the river. The zombie continued with his work watering the plants, stopping occasionally to wipe sweat from his brow.

  “Come here, Zombie,” said the bard. “Swim with us and cool off. Surely you can tend the farm later. The crops won’t stop growing if you take a cool dip in the water.”

  But the zombie ignored him and continued with his work.

  When fall came and the days turned cool, the bard made a fire for the ladies to keep warm by. The zombie didn’t have a coat, but continued to work on the farm harvesting the crops.

  “Come here, Zombie,” said the bard. “Warm up by the fire. Surely you can tend the farm later. The crops won’t stop growing if you warm up by the fire before you limbs freeze off.”

  But the zombie ignored him and continued with his work.

  And then winter came. The ladies stopped coming to the riverbank because it was too cold. The bard had nowhere to sit because the ground was covered in snow. The zombie had no more work to do on the farm and sat in his warm house.

  The bard approached the zombie’s house, which had smoke coming out of the chimney. He knocked on the door. When the zombie opened the door, and the bard said, “Please Zombie. I am so hungry. Will you give me some food? I am so cold. May I come in and warm up by your fire?”

  And the zombie said, “Bard, what were you doing when I tilled the soil for my crops?”

  “I was on the riverbank, playing my guitar and singing my songs to my adoring fans,” said the bard.

  And the zombie said, “Bard, what were you doing when I planted the seeds for my crops?”

  “I was on the riverbank, playing my guitar and singing my songs to my adoring fans,” said the bard.

  And the zombie said, “Bard, what were you doing when I watered my plants on the hot summer days?”

  “I was on the riverbank, playing my guitar and singing my songs to my adoring fans,” said the bard.

  And the zombie said, “Bard, what were doing when I harvested my crops?”

  “I was on the riverbank, playing my guitar and singing my songs to my adoring fans,” said the bard.

  And the zombie said, “But Bard, who are your adoring fans?”

  “The ladies who came to the riverbank, of course,” said the bard. “They made me cake, and started a fire for me, and swam in the river with me.”

  And the zombie said, “Where are they now?”

  “It is cold,” said the bard. “They must be in their nice warm houses.”

  And the zombie said, “I’m your fan too. And I worked when it was hot, and I worked when it was cold. Now, I offer my fire and food for you. But only if you play me a song.”

  For the rest of the winter, the bard wrote songs just for the zombie, and the zombie kept them both warm and fed.

  (back to TOC)

  ****

  First Day of School

  Riiiiiiiiing!

  “Okay kids, everyone in their seats.”

  Mrs. Dawkin’s sixth grade class eventually all got seated back behind their desks.

  “Today we’ve got a new student. Fritzgerald, would you introduce yourself?”

  A small kid with a large backpack walked to the front of the room. He looked different from the rest of the kids. He had short blonde hair, except over the spot where his skull was broken and his brain was showing through. His skin had a greenish hue, and there was some dried blood on his gray t-shirt. His jean shorts were cut off above the knee, and his left knee was so skinned that the bone was showing through.

  “Um, hi,” he said. “My name is Fritz Mosier. We just moved here from Wisconsin because my dad got a new job.”

  “We’re happy to have you Fritz,” said Mrs. Dawkins. “Would you take a seat in that empty desk there?”

  He could feel all the eyes in the classroom on him as he walked to his new desk. He was sitting behind a large boy with a shaved head. The good looking boy behind him kept talking to the girl to his right. The girl to his left was really pretty, with curly red hair and blue eyes. She gave him a smile and a little wave as he sat down. He waved back.

  “Today we’re going to start with math.” The teacher handed a book to the girl in the front of the row that Fritz was sitting in. “Please pass that back.”

  The girl handed the book to the girl behind her, who handed the book to the boy in front of Fritz. The boy put the book on his desk. Then he reached into his backpack and tossed a book behind him. The book would’ve hit Fritz if he hadn’t put his arm up to block it. Instead, it made a loud noise as it hit the floor. He picked it up and put it on the desk.

  It was the math book, but a very beat up version of it. Bad words had been carved into the cover. Something had been spilled all over the inside and the pages were wavy. He thought he saw something that looked like dried blood on the top right corner.

  Fritz took out his notebook and started copying down what the teacher was writing on the chalkboard. He was having a hard time writing because the boy behind him kept kicking his seat.

  The morning passed slowly for Fritz, because the boys in front of and behind him were doing everything they could to keep him from concentrating. Finally, class got out for lunch.

  On his way out of the classroom, the good looking boy stuck out his foot, and the big kid with the shaved head pushed Fritz, making him trip and fall to his knees. He landed on his bad knee which really hurt, but Fritz tried his best not to cry.

  “What’s wrong zombie boy?” said the big kid.

  “I thought zombies couldn’t cry,” said the good looking kid in a mock whiny voice.

  The big kid pointed to the blood on Fritz’s shirt. “Hey green face, you’ve got something on your shirt.” When Fritz looked down, the big kid flicked him in the nose.

  “You better go to lunch,” said the good loo
king kid. “Oh wait, I don’t think our cafeteria serves BRAINS!” The two boys walked away laughing.

  Fritz went in the restroom and hid in the stall. He was going to stay there for all of the lunch hour, but a teacher came in and made him leave.

  He went to the cafeteria, got a carton of milk, and sat at a table by himself. The cute girl that sat next to him in class came over and sat across from him at the table. She was carrying her lunch in a My Little Pony lunchbox. There was a candy bar inside. She opened it, broke it in two, and handed half to Fritz. “Do you want half of my candy bar?”

  “I don’t have anything to trade for it,” Fritz said.

  “That’s okay,” she said, “My name is Clarice.”

  “I’m Fritz.”

  “I know,” she giggled, and ate the rest her lunch in silence.

  When the bell rang to signal time to go back to class, Fritz mumbled, “Thanks,” and started to walk down the hall.

  Clarice ran to catch up with him and grabbed his hand. “Will you be my friend?” she asked.

  “Sure, if you’ll be mine,” he said.

  And hand in hand, they walked down the hall together.

  (back to TOC)

  ****

  On the Front Lines

  It was a gorgeous day in Fredericksburg, Virginia. The sun shown dewy and new on the crisp morning, and the air held the promise of a warm, pleasant June day. Birdsong rang through the town, welcoming in the early summer day.

  Parents pushed strollers through Battlefield Park, with young children following in their wake. A couple spread a blanket out on the grass for a late morning picnic. A car drove by with its windows down, temporarily jarring everyone with heavy bass, but leaving behind a new appreciation for the quiet sounds of nature.