470 words Zombie Mart

Part 3: Dick for Brains

Gun Ho Kim walked up to the Zippie Mart with a spring in his step. He had worked here until a few months ago and hadn’t been able to find another job since. But to be fair, he hadn’t really looked for one either. They had canned him for no good reason. “Resource streamlining,” they’d said. Whatever. It was a bummer, but he wasn’t the kind of guy to hold a grudge. Besides, he really liked living above his parent’s garage: No rent and free food. What more could you want?

He was there to meet Dusty for lunch. Dusty was paying, and Gun never missed a free meal.

As he got to the door, the greeter spotted him. Oh great. It’s that dick, Dick.

Dick Rosenfeld was one of the few people that didn’t like Gun. The feeling was mutual.

“It seems like you hang around more now than when you actually worked here,” Dick said, looking down his nose. Literally. He was very tall. Gun, not so much.

“That’s right, Dick. I can’t get enough of looking at your booger collection.”

Behind them, a few figures staggered into the store.

“Welcome to Zippie Mart,” Dick said to them out of the corner of his mouth.

“You call that a greeting?” Gun asked. “How’d you keep your job? Oh, wait, of course. I see. Sleeping with the boss, huh?”

Dick’s nostrils flared. “Now listen here you–” He was interrupted when a small zombie ran up, jumped on his back and started climbing.

“Ack, what the hell?!” He shook it off. But the little thing was quick and bit into the back of his leg. As he grabbed his hamstring and fell to the ground screaming, the wee zombie jumped on him, scratching and biting.

Chomp! It bit into his throat and yanked out a hunk of flesh. Blood spurted into the air, a small stream spraying up and back down in a graceful arc.

“Whoa,” Gun said, nonplussed.

The zombie’s eyes locked on to Gun, Dick convulsing as he bled out. It stood up slowly and snarled at him.

“Oh crap. No! I’m too l33t to die!” Gun screamed.

SPLOODGE! Dusty came zooming in on a motorized wheelchair and with a grand-slam swing of his shovel splattered the zombie’s brains all over the store entrance.

“Dude, you’re my hero!” Gun smiled.

“Did you just say you’re ‘l33t?’” Dusty chuckled.

“I don’t know man, I panicked!” Gun glanced at the blood smeared storefront. Chunks of brain were sliding down the glass. “Speaking of which, I think I need a new pair of pants.”

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