On Zombies with Bullies


“Well come on with ye then…” I said voice excised as if from scarified flesh, taunt with disconcerting shades of insistence. Hands impatiently placed on hips, I stood by the metal sarcophagi squinting at the corpse as it crept forward, the stone dusty, sibilant beneath shuffling feet. The decomposition on this specimen was minimal, only a short time deceased but as all the others his flesh was a chilling cyanic blue. No life passed in those caliginous irises, no inquisition, no acknowledgment of the pensile right arm now threadbare and toiling behind him.


Jamming a needle into the leathery hide I went to work, reattaching the wrecked limb. “Pfft…no respect for the dead…” I mumbled shaking my head. Every Zombie employed in the cities’ service came back vandalized aside from the nearly severed limb the body was littered with offensive graffiti. A few notices were even pinned to the torso some of which were want ads of dubious entreaty.  Working with Zombies in such proximity I understood their challenges. They could only carry out basic commands, suffered severe speech impediments, an ataxic gate, attentional deficits, and most concerning was that their condition was degenerative. Looking at a freshly prepped vessel gave one the sense of uncanny valley, they were human (or had been) but there was something terribly off. Their use was questionable morally but many insisted that they were soulless husks devoid of perception or sentiment at least when measured against statistical standards.  This degraded corpse had been the standard by which value was measured and now he existed so far outside the spectrum that he was treated as refuse.


“Next time some berk comes up to ye all suspicious like…let out a groan aye…a real deep one…and then point yer finger at him as if to say yer next…” I instructed extending a bony digit in my tumescent companion’s direction. “All ego…tiny stem…ye give ‘im a right scare won’t harass ye anymore…” I said looking to make sure the Zombie was following the conversation, he wasn’t. Muculent eyes were bobbing like apples in a barrel but still I went on. “Now go on give it a try…” I said cutting the thread and slathering the decimated flesh with a fresh layer of embalming fluid. “Mmmnnnguuhhh….” The Zombie’s carious windpipe gurgled, as if he were speaking face down in a bowl of soup. “Not bad…not bad….” I said tapping a jagged finger nail to my chin, hardly flinching as his fetid breath washed over my olfactory cells.


“Try something else…a little more passion this time ye wants to put the fear in ‘im….forget the finger….try saying something….real creepy like…” I said and the Zombie’s outwardly crossed-eyes suddenly drew inward, almost as if he were trying to find his nose. Tottering on his feet, he puffed up his chest and howled “BRAAAAIIIIINNNNSSS!” “Aye that’s good! Nearly wet meh knickers I did!” I said laughing dryly and nodding with vigorous approval. The cadaver’s poorly hinged jaw fell open wider as if to effect a smile. Whether or not bullies were of any concern to him personally was beyond my expertise but in that moment, almost canine, he seemed pleased with himself.


I confess I have a geeky side I love the old RPG Planescape Torment and this is sort of inspired from that hence the zombies and the strange language. Found out I am going to be sick for 6 to 8 weeks!

This is for

Carry on Tuesday