I can't help it, I find zombies amusing.
Kristoff shambled up to the counter, his left foot twisted and dragging behind him. He leaned forward, but not too far, lest he tip over. Years of zombiedom had played havoc with his sense of balance. Slow, careful movements were the key to staying upright.
There was a bell on the counter with a sign, "Ring for Service."
Kristoff grabbed his right hand with his left and raised it over the bell. He had been right handed when alive, and despite a pitbull mishap that left it dangling from his wrist by a single tendon, he still liked to try to use it as much as possible for old times' sake.
He dropped his hand on the bell. Ring.
Kristoff rang twice more before another zombie emerged from the back room. The name tag pinned to the faded red vest said Bob. His face was soft and drawn, like a wax dummy that had melted, and he was missing an ear.
"Ooooo Ooo Argh?" Bob asked. Being a zombie, Kristoff could understand Bob and heard, "How can I help you?"
"oooo Argh ooo?" Kristoff asked. "Is this the Lost and Found."
"Yes," Bob said, being careful not to nod. Kristoff recognized a fellow "goose neck" sufferer.
"Has anyone turned in an eye?" Kristoff gestured at the hole in his face.
"What color?" Bob asked.
"Blue," replied Kristoff.
"Let's see," Bob reached under the counter and brought up a shoebox. "Hmmmm, got two noses, a few fingers, part of a chin. Oh look, an index finger!"
That was when Kristoff noticed Bob's eyes. "Hey. you have a brown eye and a blue eye. You stole my eye!"
"I did not! They've been this color since I was born. My mother had eyes like these as well."
Kristoff's eye narrowed. "Are you sure?"
"Scout's honor."
"If you find it, please let me know."
"I'll keep an eye out for it," Bob laughed, which was more raspy gasp than a chuckle.
Kristoff did not join him.
Bob stopped. "Yes, I'll let you know."
"Thank you." Kristoff shuffled away.
Bob reached back into the box and took out the ear. Holding it up against his head, he looked at his reflection in the counter. "Perfect," he said and went to find a needle and thread.
Copyright 2012 John Lance
Kristoff shambled up to the counter, his left foot twisted and dragging behind him. He leaned forward, but not too far, lest he tip over. Years of zombiedom had played havoc with his sense of balance. Slow, careful movements were the key to staying upright.
There was a bell on the counter with a sign, "Ring for Service."
Kristoff grabbed his right hand with his left and raised it over the bell. He had been right handed when alive, and despite a pitbull mishap that left it dangling from his wrist by a single tendon, he still liked to try to use it as much as possible for old times' sake.
He dropped his hand on the bell. Ring.
Kristoff rang twice more before another zombie emerged from the back room. The name tag pinned to the faded red vest said Bob. His face was soft and drawn, like a wax dummy that had melted, and he was missing an ear.
"Ooooo Ooo Argh?" Bob asked. Being a zombie, Kristoff could understand Bob and heard, "How can I help you?"
"oooo Argh ooo?" Kristoff asked. "Is this the Lost and Found."
"Yes," Bob said, being careful not to nod. Kristoff recognized a fellow "goose neck" sufferer.
"Has anyone turned in an eye?" Kristoff gestured at the hole in his face.
"What color?" Bob asked.
"Blue," replied Kristoff.
"Let's see," Bob reached under the counter and brought up a shoebox. "Hmmmm, got two noses, a few fingers, part of a chin. Oh look, an index finger!"
That was when Kristoff noticed Bob's eyes. "Hey. you have a brown eye and a blue eye. You stole my eye!"
"I did not! They've been this color since I was born. My mother had eyes like these as well."
Kristoff's eye narrowed. "Are you sure?"
"Scout's honor."
"If you find it, please let me know."
"I'll keep an eye out for it," Bob laughed, which was more raspy gasp than a chuckle.
Kristoff did not join him.
Bob stopped. "Yes, I'll let you know."
"Thank you." Kristoff shuffled away.
Bob reached back into the box and took out the ear. Holding it up against his head, he looked at his reflection in the counter. "Perfect," he said and went to find a needle and thread.
Copyright 2012 John Lance
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