Being a zombie.

  I wasn’t always paranoid. Not even when zombies started to chew on the humans. That was fine by me until one bit a chunk out of my leg. Oh yeah I was so smart running away instead of letting the fucker finish me off. I should have pulled a knife and fork out of my arse and laid down on a silver platter and shoved an apple in my mouth, but nooo brains here had to make a run for it and die. Then come back to life. Not come back to life and everything is sunshine and roses, but come back to life and the world has gone to shit. The world really is eat or be eaten now. Buildings are in ruins. The roads are about the same as they were apart from a few more weeds. Calling them roads is an insult to the potholes that make up seventy percent of the roads before the virus took over.

  Animals run free over roads and fields now. They can run across roads and train tracks without fear of death. Yes they now have the fear of being eaten alive by me or one of my compadres, but isn’t that a safer existence?

  Life after death isn’t good as far as I can tell. Don’t get me wrong living wasn’t great either. As the band Hard-fi once sang. I’m living for the weekend. That was how it was. Pay day to pay day. Grasping for every penny. Now there definitely aren’t any money worries. The health benefits on the other hand are shocking. It’s like a daily process checking to see what’s fallen off now or going to. I don’t know why but I have paid particular attention to my willy. Its a shame that wont be getting used again. Good bye my old friend. We had good times.

  Near enough every film in the world talks about the poor humans. Well I say fuck them. All they want to do is kill us poor insects zombies . It’s not our fault your our source of food.

  Is it our fault if you humans are incapable of escaping the worst predators ever created. We are slow. We have the balance of a toddler, our hands are about as useful as a stripper in a gay bar. I mean we can’t even open doors. I was stuck in a room once for three weeks looking at the door handle and had no idea what to do. I knew I had to do something with it but that was it. Some poor bastard walked in and before he could do anything I had ripped his throat out with my teeth. I was starving.

  Have you ever tried to have a conversation with a zombie? I highly doubt it. I did once. Now according to my wife. Ooo that’s a new memory. I wonder if she survived. Well maybe she deserved to keep living coz I am thinking that being dead is the best way to be. Anyway back to talking to a zombie. The conversation is less than stimulating. You would think grunting in a few different tones would get old quick, but once you start you get stuck in a cycle and you are there for hours.

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  You know it didn’t really hit me that I had tuned into a zombie until I ate my first human. It wasn’t just me obviously. There was a few of us Dave John Garry. I’m joking I don’t know their names, but we were chowing down on this delicious Caucasian woman. A beautiful vintage i would say she had bee maturing for around twenty two years. I had her intestines in my mouth like a dog in a cartoon running from a butchers with a string of sausages. When I looked up feeling amazing I saw one of the others. He had ketchup all over his face. And that’s when I realized it was blood. Instead of being revolted it sent me into a frenzy. There was nothing left when we stopped. I had to sit down for an hour after that feast.

  Today has started off with a low ground mist. The sun is starting to burn it off and because it has been cracking the flags for the last few days the air is rancid. Not only are we zombies rotting but the corpses littering the ground now are really stating to hum. Is it OK to complain about a problem is am part of. It’s like an illegal immigrant complaining about all the foreigners. As I look around trying to find my next meal I see a figure. It looks like a man. He is on the road in front of me. There is a loud crack and one of my fellow zombies falls. My body tells me to run but my mind tells me to stay. I think I have had enough time on this planet now.

  Nope my legs seem to suddenly be working just fine and I’m running. Bits of tarmac keep chipping up off the road around me. This guy must be a terrible shot. The shots are not very fast and I’m sure there is only one gun man. I seem to be the only zombie running the opposite way to the man.

  I must have gotten out of range of that bastard now. The clue was the lack of bullets whizzing past my head. I turned and saw him he wasn’t bothered by my thirty colleagues groaning up at him from the base of the building he was on top of. Just focused on me witch I was taking more than a little personally. He is going to be my meal one day. If I fucking remember his face that is and to be honest I highly doubt I will remember since I am too far away to make him out clearly. Then like he hadn’t a care in the world he packed up and left. I don’t know where and wasn’t going to go and find out. That prick did have a gun after all and was on high alert right now. I will go and look for a human who is a little blunter than the rest of the spoons in the draw and eat them. Hopefully they will have some meat on the bone.

  Have you ever noticed that the films always make out that zombies want to eat brains but to be honest I just want flesh. Brains are hard to get to. Its like cracking a coconut that is wrapped in leather. A massive pain in the arse but it is a treat if you put the effort in. Not that I can be arsed most of the time, plus there is usually another zombie around who will nick the head before I get chance. I will bring the fucking human down and some cheeky bastard will run in rip his or her head off. I don’t discriminate about who I’m eating. And before I know it they are running away with his or her head like an injured Usain Bolt.