Stories tagged zombies

Vergangenheits­bewältigung

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Everybody screwed up their faces, struck out their arms, stumbled and groaned. Panik-Udo knocked his heels together and shot up his right arm, Dr. Strangelove-style.

Swan Song

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He ignored his scalded scrotum and listened intently. The music was beautiful beyond all physical pleasure or pain. The end of the piece gave him a deeper understanding of the expression 'la petite mort'. While he was still recovering, the next track b

Sociopathic Medicine

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True love may last forever, but the most I've ever gotten out of a lab assistant is two years, five months, three weeks, twelve days, and fifteen hours. And he was the exception.

Texas hold ’em

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. . . at midnight three zombies and a vampire gather for a game of Texas hold ’em.

Jeremy

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My name is Jeremy, and I am in love with a zombie.

Zombies In The Time of Nineteen Eighty-Four

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I was watching the bustling crowd below, sipping on a teacup full of Victory Gin when the scream, no a howl, cut through the murmuring of footsteps and telescreens.

we all the boxes break

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How have we missed death’s delights and why are we awake still to be hungry?

Zombies Calling

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The zombie apocalypse was long foretold as a rather exciting bit of bother involving shotguns and chainsaws, but the reality of it is rather depressingly boring.

Stupid Fuckin' Douchebag

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[WARNING: MAY BE HARMFUL IF INGESTED INTERNALLY. DO NOT OVER-INFLATE. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DRIVE THIS VEHICLE IN THE "SLOW LANE." YOUR WORD IS YOUR BOND. ANYTHING YOU SAY MAY BE USED AGAINST YOU IN A COURT OF LAW. DON'T FORGET TO REPORT ON YOUR NEIGHBOR

Camp Hope

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Tater didn't like three things in this life: his daddy, his momma, and the stupid dog that chewed his jizzed on socks.

The First Soliloquy of the Interior Zombie

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But do come close enough for me to hear.

A Fate Worse than Death

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The abandoned body got up and left the room. It was just in time to greet his wife and daughter, who were just coming in the front door.

Soliloquies of the Interior Zombies

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My inner shape must be a ruin of organs,/ dead or dying. But do come close enough/ for me to hear. I need to know your story.

Briefing

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President Dobbs looked a lot cheerier than he felt. Or ever was, for that matter. Cursed or blessed with cherub cheeks, Kris Kringle laugh lines, merry eyes and just enough fat to make him look honest, he gave off an aura of accessibility and friendly emp

Commute

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Fred's ruined face stared back at him from a fractured, mold-spotted mirror. The remains of breakfast pooled around his feet and a pair of lace panties clung to his shoe, glued there by God knew what. Bits of flesh were stuck between his yellow teeth, alo