Read Online Bob The Zombie by Jaime Johnesee - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jaime Johnesee
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off. The best witch can raise and keep a zombie for up to six months before it starts decomposing. I was glad to have had those two weeks but the ending of them broke my heart into a million pieces, being asked to leave by your own mother is deeply painful. That she was the one who brought me back made it even worse.
So there I was, off by my little old lonesome, when I ran across another zombie named Face. I won't get into why he is nicknamed Face, but let's just say it's not because he's pretty. Face and his crew were hanging at the cemetery, messing with the stoner kids. I soon found it was one of his favorite pastimes and that he visited every cemetery i n town looking to mess with people. The kids would smoke a little pot (or drop acid) and Face would wait about ten minutes and start clawing his way out of a grave. We'd sit back and watch as the drug addled victims started pointing and screaming. Sometimes they ran, sometimes they soiled themselves, once a kid had a gun with him and I was almost shot in the shoulder.
The first time I saw them though, I was hanging back in the tree line. I watched, and chuckled when the kids spotted Face and began shrieking and running. After the humans hightailed it out of there, I came down and introduced myself. We became great friends and I became a member of their horde. Before you even ask, no, hordes aren't like gangs or mob branches. Hordes are...well, they're families. We might scare a few humans from time to time, but we don't harm anyone. We mostly just stick together and have fun.
Well, we did. Then I got a sort of mental memo from the Goddess. She told me that some woman needed my help in the course of her becoming the go between for God and Go ddess and the world. The first time I met this chick she was asleep in the woods and a bunch of supernatural creatures had gathered around to help her. All of them had received a similar psychic email from Goddess. My first impression was that she was a nice lady, but for the biggest hope the human race has ever had, she was a bit dim. I mean honestly, who falls asleep in a forest? (Although it give the phrase sawing logs a whole new meaning) After getting to know Holly Andrews a bit, I realized she wasn't dense, just overwhelmed. I can relate to her, and that. I'm overwhelmed on a daily basis, however, I try to make jokes and keep things light. Life is enough to beat you down all by itself. Keep a smile and a sarcastic comment close and it can make things just a bit better.
I hate not being able to get out much, but I understand the rules of our society. For the most part, humans don't want to know that we various supernatural critters exist, and we hide from them to keep it that way. My friend Holly will change all of that. I can't tell you more about it now, but one day , you'll see. She is going to create a whole new world for us all, human and other. I have my own part in this new world and I am really proud of it. That's not what this story is about, no, that's a tale for another time. Instead I'm going to tell you more about my pals and me.
So, one of our favorite pastimes (other than scaring people at the cemeteries) is clubbing. We hit every zombie friendly club in town. I love to dance. Mostly, I love watching people smile and laugh when they see me dancing. I'm no Fred Astaire, or MC Hammer, but my dancing brings joy to most everyone who watches. Well, until a piece of myself flies off and hits someone. It happens more often than you'd think, and definitely more than I care to admit, but I've been reanimated for almost a decade now. Hardly anything on me is fresh these days, except my sarcasm. Don't wrinkle your nose up at me, I take daily showers and use a special deodorant. I don't reek. I may drop chunks of rotting flesh now and then, but I smell damn good doing it.
So, one day the Horde and I were at this club called Coyotes just dancing and having fun when my finger flew off me and into this icy blonde bitch's
So there I was, off by my little old lonesome, when I ran across another zombie named Face. I won't get into why he is nicknamed Face, but let's just say it's not because he's pretty. Face and his crew were hanging at the cemetery, messing with the stoner kids. I soon found it was one of his favorite pastimes and that he visited every cemetery i n town looking to mess with people. The kids would smoke a little pot (or drop acid) and Face would wait about ten minutes and start clawing his way out of a grave. We'd sit back and watch as the drug addled victims started pointing and screaming. Sometimes they ran, sometimes they soiled themselves, once a kid had a gun with him and I was almost shot in the shoulder.
The first time I saw them though, I was hanging back in the tree line. I watched, and chuckled when the kids spotted Face and began shrieking and running. After the humans hightailed it out of there, I came down and introduced myself. We became great friends and I became a member of their horde. Before you even ask, no, hordes aren't like gangs or mob branches. Hordes are...well, they're families. We might scare a few humans from time to time, but we don't harm anyone. We mostly just stick together and have fun.
Well, we did. Then I got a sort of mental memo from the Goddess. She told me that some woman needed my help in the course of her becoming the go between for God and Go ddess and the world. The first time I met this chick she was asleep in the woods and a bunch of supernatural creatures had gathered around to help her. All of them had received a similar psychic email from Goddess. My first impression was that she was a nice lady, but for the biggest hope the human race has ever had, she was a bit dim. I mean honestly, who falls asleep in a forest? (Although it give the phrase sawing logs a whole new meaning) After getting to know Holly Andrews a bit, I realized she wasn't dense, just overwhelmed. I can relate to her, and that. I'm overwhelmed on a daily basis, however, I try to make jokes and keep things light. Life is enough to beat you down all by itself. Keep a smile and a sarcastic comment close and it can make things just a bit better.
I hate not being able to get out much, but I understand the rules of our society. For the most part, humans don't want to know that we various supernatural critters exist, and we hide from them to keep it that way. My friend Holly will change all of that. I can't tell you more about it now, but one day , you'll see. She is going to create a whole new world for us all, human and other. I have my own part in this new world and I am really proud of it. That's not what this story is about, no, that's a tale for another time. Instead I'm going to tell you more about my pals and me.
So, one of our favorite pastimes (other than scaring people at the cemeteries) is clubbing. We hit every zombie friendly club in town. I love to dance. Mostly, I love watching people smile and laugh when they see me dancing. I'm no Fred Astaire, or MC Hammer, but my dancing brings joy to most everyone who watches. Well, until a piece of myself flies off and hits someone. It happens more often than you'd think, and definitely more than I care to admit, but I've been reanimated for almost a decade now. Hardly anything on me is fresh these days, except my sarcasm. Don't wrinkle your nose up at me, I take daily showers and use a special deodorant. I don't reek. I may drop chunks of rotting flesh now and then, but I smell damn good doing it.
So, one day the Horde and I were at this club called Coyotes just dancing and having fun when my finger flew off me and into this icy blonde bitch's
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