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Book: Zombie Fighter Jango #1 The Road to Hell Is Paved With Zombies by Cedric Nye
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Authors: Cedric Nye
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logic.
Sonja couldn’t understand why Jango would want her to choose a tiny knife instead of a Michonne style Walking Dead sword! The guy seemed to know a lot about throwing down, but how could he possibly think a knife would beat a sword? The thought was absurd.
Jango sighed, and wonder ed if he should just let it go, and let her carry the damned sword, when she swung it through the air again.
“Whoosh!” She beheaded another imaginary zombie with her sword.
He couldn’t stand it anymore. “Wait, wait, wait,” Jango said, making a time out T with his hands, his stick held against his body under his left arm.
“Sonja, ahh, shit, how do I say this without sounding like a butthole ?” Jango thought about it for a moment, and then said, “That sword will get you killed out there, okay?”
“Here, let me show you, okay?” He looked around, and quickly spotted a wooden handled broom. Perfect! He could definitely use the broom for his anti-sword demonstration.
He walked over and grabbed it from where it was leaned against the wall, and then walked over to the rack that held all the shirts. He randomly chose a shirt from the rack. When he glanced at the writing on the red shirt. He saw that it said, “Gun Control Means Using Both Hands to Aim.” Jango chuckled.
He carefully tied the shirt onto the broom handle just below the bristles. He held the broom with the bristles just about the height of his own head, and told Sonja, “Okay. I am going to pretend to be a zombie. Well, not me , the broom will be the goober, okay?”
Jango gathered steam and forged ahead, just wanting to get her on the same page as him. “Vertebrae are bone and bone is hard. You can’t just cut through it that easily.” He continued talking when he saw that she had started to listen to him now.
“Vertebrae, I think, are going to be harder to cut than this broom handle. If you want to behead something, you have to be, like, I don’t know, a fucking master of swords, or whatever they call themselves. There are too many things that can get in the way of you taking off a head, like if your blade doesn’t hit at the perfect angle, or your blade gets stuck in bone. Zombies don’t feel any pain, they don’t flinch, and if your sword gets stuck, you will be well and truly fucked,” Jango finished.
He watched her face as Sonja’s common sense warred with what television had taught her would work in a Zombie Apocalypse. Then he pulled out his final card.
“I will come at you like a zombie, and if you can cut off the head of this broom-goober, then I will believe that you can gank zombies with it, okay?”
Jango crossed his heart and said, “I promise I won’t give you any grief at all about it after this.”
She looked at him for a long moment, and finally said, “Fine. Let’s do it!”
Without warning, he screamed at the top of his lungs, “Derrrr-EEEE-aaaaaaaHeeeee!” and ran straight at Sonja while he held the broom up in front of his face. The shirt flapped wildly on the broom handle as Jango charged.
Sonja , startled, jumped a little bit, and then quickly brought the sword back over her right shoulder as if it was a baseball bat. But she had been too slow.
Jango had reached her, and he had pushed the broom against the top of her head while he made a creepy keening sound that was unnervingly similar to the sounds that the zombies made when feeding. Then he pressed the bristles against her left shoulder and made chewing noises, “Nom, nom, nom, mmmm, nom, nom.” Then he screamed, “Rheeee-Eeeeee!”
By th at time, Sonja had started laughing so hard she could barely breathe. The sword lay on the ground as she leaned over, hands braced on her knees. Tears streamed from her eyes, as she laughed so hard that didn’t even make any noise.
After a few minutes, she was finally able to draw a breath, “Heeeeeeeeeee,” she wheezed, as she took in a long breath, still giggling a little bit as she stood up straight and wiped
Sonja couldn’t understand why Jango would want her to choose a tiny knife instead of a Michonne style Walking Dead sword! The guy seemed to know a lot about throwing down, but how could he possibly think a knife would beat a sword? The thought was absurd.
Jango sighed, and wonder ed if he should just let it go, and let her carry the damned sword, when she swung it through the air again.
“Whoosh!” She beheaded another imaginary zombie with her sword.
He couldn’t stand it anymore. “Wait, wait, wait,” Jango said, making a time out T with his hands, his stick held against his body under his left arm.
“Sonja, ahh, shit, how do I say this without sounding like a butthole ?” Jango thought about it for a moment, and then said, “That sword will get you killed out there, okay?”
“Here, let me show you, okay?” He looked around, and quickly spotted a wooden handled broom. Perfect! He could definitely use the broom for his anti-sword demonstration.
He walked over and grabbed it from where it was leaned against the wall, and then walked over to the rack that held all the shirts. He randomly chose a shirt from the rack. When he glanced at the writing on the red shirt. He saw that it said, “Gun Control Means Using Both Hands to Aim.” Jango chuckled.
He carefully tied the shirt onto the broom handle just below the bristles. He held the broom with the bristles just about the height of his own head, and told Sonja, “Okay. I am going to pretend to be a zombie. Well, not me , the broom will be the goober, okay?”
Jango gathered steam and forged ahead, just wanting to get her on the same page as him. “Vertebrae are bone and bone is hard. You can’t just cut through it that easily.” He continued talking when he saw that she had started to listen to him now.
“Vertebrae, I think, are going to be harder to cut than this broom handle. If you want to behead something, you have to be, like, I don’t know, a fucking master of swords, or whatever they call themselves. There are too many things that can get in the way of you taking off a head, like if your blade doesn’t hit at the perfect angle, or your blade gets stuck in bone. Zombies don’t feel any pain, they don’t flinch, and if your sword gets stuck, you will be well and truly fucked,” Jango finished.
He watched her face as Sonja’s common sense warred with what television had taught her would work in a Zombie Apocalypse. Then he pulled out his final card.
“I will come at you like a zombie, and if you can cut off the head of this broom-goober, then I will believe that you can gank zombies with it, okay?”
Jango crossed his heart and said, “I promise I won’t give you any grief at all about it after this.”
She looked at him for a long moment, and finally said, “Fine. Let’s do it!”
Without warning, he screamed at the top of his lungs, “Derrrr-EEEE-aaaaaaaHeeeee!” and ran straight at Sonja while he held the broom up in front of his face. The shirt flapped wildly on the broom handle as Jango charged.
Sonja , startled, jumped a little bit, and then quickly brought the sword back over her right shoulder as if it was a baseball bat. But she had been too slow.
Jango had reached her, and he had pushed the broom against the top of her head while he made a creepy keening sound that was unnervingly similar to the sounds that the zombies made when feeding. Then he pressed the bristles against her left shoulder and made chewing noises, “Nom, nom, nom, mmmm, nom, nom.” Then he screamed, “Rheeee-Eeeeee!”
By th at time, Sonja had started laughing so hard she could barely breathe. The sword lay on the ground as she leaned over, hands braced on her knees. Tears streamed from her eyes, as she laughed so hard that didn’t even make any noise.
After a few minutes, she was finally able to draw a breath, “Heeeeeeeeeee,” she wheezed, as she took in a long breath, still giggling a little bit as she stood up straight and wiped
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