Zombies Eat Lawyers (5 page)

Charley and Paul stopped dead in their tracks.

“
You gotta be kidding me,” Paul muttered. He turned to the front door and yelled. “Closed.”

Charley and Paul then kept moving towards the back of the store. More tapping. Paul turned again. “Come back tomorrow, loser.”

The tapping got louder.

“
I’ll bet it’s four ninety-five guy,” Paul griped. “Just my luck.”

“
Four ninety-five guy?” Charley asked.

“
Yeah, you know. ‘It’s four ninety-five in the circular, but five ninety-five at the register.’ Dammit, it’s a dollar difference. Get a life.”

The tapping got more furious.

“
That’s it,” Paul snapped and moved towards the glass door.

“
Dude, you’re wasting your--”

“
Je-sus.”

Charley turned to see Paul stopped in front of the door, staring down tapping culprit. But what they saw was not a man, but the Redneck hunter from before, now zombiefied. He kept trying to force his way into the store.

“
What the hell happened to that dude?” Paul asked, not wanting to know the answer.

Charley looked out at the parking lot, where dozens of zombies of all shapes and sizes were gathered.

“
I don’t know, but there’s more of them out there,” Charley said.

Redneck Zombie slammed the metal gate, breaking a piece of glass in the door. Charley and Paul stepped back.

Zombie then reached his hand through the gate and the hole in the glass, trying to clutch Paul.

“
Dude, tell me this is just a dream,” Paul muttered.

Charley hit Paul in the arm.

“
Son of a…” Paul said, wincing in pain.

“
It’s not a dream.”

Moaning was then heard from inside the store.

Paul and Charley raised their eyebrows at each other, then slowly turned around, and saw a Zombie Personal Trainer staggering behind them. The brawny Zombie Trainer then lunged at Paul, teeth out, ready to bite.

Paul put his hands up to stop the Zombie from biting him, but had trouble holding the creature back.

“
Dude!” Paul screamed.

Charley watched, shocked.

“
Little help bro,” Paul continued.

Charley snapped out of his haze. He looked around for the closest attack item available.

Paul narrowly dodged another bite.

“
Dude. What are you doing?”

Shopping carts then hurtled towards the Zombie Trainer and Paul. Charley pushed the carts on a collision course with the Trainer, sideswiping the zombie, and pinning it against a wall.

As the zombie was trapped, Paul checked himself frantically for bite marks, then breathed a sigh of relief.

“
Guess the customers not always right, bitch!” Charley quipped, as he looked at the motionless creature.

“
What the hell took you so long?” Paul said, berating Charley.

“
You’re welcome.”

“
Bro, that thing almost bit me. Good thing I’ve been polishing my guns or there’s no way I could have held it off.”

“
Paul, playing video games isn’t polishing your guns.”

“
Really. You‘re going to bring details into this conversation?”

But Charley couldn’t look away from the creature.

“
Damn, now I really need a drink,” Paul continued, to no response. “Dude--”

“
It’s not dead,” Charley replied.

Paul looked over at the Zombie Trainer trying to free itself from the train of shopping carts. Paul looked at the Zombie’s vacant eyes.

“
Oh, he’s dead alright.”

“
Not dead enough. We have to do something.”

“
Talk about ugly.”

Charley moved over to one of the registers. “Paul, help me out here.”

“
No wonder he’s so pissed. No way he’s gonna score with a chick looking that nasty.”

“
Paul.”

Paul moved over to the register.

Charley and Paul unplugged the register, slammed it down on the Zombie’s head. Sparks flew, leaving the Zombie motionless.

“
Keep the change,” Paul cracked. “See, now that’s a catchphrase.”

“
There’s bigger issues Paul. Like Jesus, what the hell was that thing? And how did it get in…”

Charley and Paul turned to each other simultaneously.

“
Loading dock.”

Banned: A Booze & Boobs Bonanza

Excerpt

The Curious Case Of The Banana-Hammocked Cowboy

Huck Finn never thought he'd wake up on a pool table beside a Nudist Beauty Queen. Of course, making small talk with a sword swallower wasn't part of his five year plan either. But the beer goggle menage-a-trois with butt ugly hotel maids was the last straw. So there Huck found himself, half-naked in a hotel suite, straddling a strippers pole with the kind of neon hangover you could only get in Vegas wondering how things could have gone so terribly wrong. Only one thought kept creeping into Huck's mind; it was all Tom Sawyer's fault.

But to understand the whole story, you had to go back before the booze-fueled Vegas romp. Before the road trip gone wild. Before the man child mayhem. Back to Huck's last day in Missouri.

*********

Huck's departure from St. Petersburg was bittersweet. He was leaving the town he grew up in. Leaving his loving adopted Mother Polly and her new taxidermist husband. Pulling up stakes on his successful career as a Redneck Realtor. And of course, he was leaving behind his partner in crime Tom Sawyer.

The decision wasn't easy, but after that fateful raft trip years before, Huck had found his interests wandering far beyond the boundaries of St. Petersburg. How could anyone blame him? Huck had been exposed to a whole new world. And he had been itching to explore it ever since. So when his old friend Jim called from California raving of the riches to be made as a Realtor To The Stars, naturally Huck jumped at the opportunity.

Huck's mind had been in the Golden State ever since, even while his body was stuck sleep walking through the best going away party the 98 Cent Store could buy. Cheap streamers, defective kazoo's, Happy New Year 2009 sunglasses, and children’s birthday party coned hats were the highlights of Huck's send off for four years of service. But Huck's focus was on how quickly the prospect of free cake could get the office vultures to trip over each other. The same sourpusses that would nearly tip themselves over giving sideways glances forced fake greeting card congrats on Huck in the name of day old baked goods.

But amid the freebie hounds, at least one office mate was eager not to let Huck go. Maybe a little too eager. Someone forgot to tell Annabelle McMurray it was casual Friday. Dressed to impress, Annabelle did her best to offer herself up to Huck as a going away gift.

"I can't believe you're really leaving," Annabelle lamented, as Huck downed a sip of off brand cola wishing it were spiked.

"I know it's hard to believe, but there is more to life than being a Redneck Realtor," Huck replied, more concerned with whether his girlfriend Nicole would finally be packed when he arrived home.

But Annabelle was determined not to be denied. "You know Huck, I'm really going to miss you."

"Hey, a dude can only hawk houseboats and double wide's so long, you know?" Huck continued, already planning the trip in his head all the way down to the bathroom breaks.

"No. I mean I'm really going to miss you," Annabelle insisted, batting her eyes for Huck.

Huck looked up from his cola for the first time to notice Annabelle's seductive smile. Annabelle had always been the road not taken. The unexplored country. The type of woman that spent more time trying to steal other women's boyfriends than finding one of her own. But if Huck was anything, it was loyal.

"You've met my girlfriend Nicole, right?" Huck remarked, knowing full well Nicole and Annabelle's tipsy karaoke carols were the highlight of last years Holiday office party.

But Annabelle didn't take the hint. "Have you met the twins? Maybe they can convince you to stay in town," Annabelle added, running her hand down her blouse while licking her lips.

Of all the office parties in all the world, infidelity was trying to crash that one. But with visions of the doghouse already dancing in his head, Huck wasn't about to taste the forbidden fruit. Not after all the work he'd done carving a Garden of Eden of his own with Nicole. And the office going away party was not the time to pilfer paradise.

But Huck soon realized all it took was a trip home to find out how quickly paradise could be lost. Huck expected to be greeted by moving boxes just inside his front door, not by a banana hammocked-hick. But there Allan Johnson stood in Huck's entryway wearing tight spandex, a cowboy hat, and nothing else.

"You're not the pizza dude," Allan lamented, sporting half a chub, much to Huck's repulsion. This wasn't Huck's first run in with Port-O-Paulie's star Port-O-Pottie huckster. Allan had plowed through the St. Petersburg's singles scene like a tractor during Harvest season. And in a unique twist of irony, that piss ant was actually Annabelle's date for last years office Holiday party. Never did Huck imagine things would come full circle with the shit hitting the fan on his own doorstep.

"Fuck me like a rabid rhino. What are you doing here?" Huck questioned, with equal parts rage and bewilderment. But Huck didn't really want to know the answer. Nor did he want to see Allan scratching his balls, but Huck ended up with a front row seat to that fright fest. Huck wasn't sure whether to pulverize Allan or puke. Allan made the choice easy.

"I was about to ask you the same question dude," Allan remarked, confused. "Didn't you get Nicole's text?"

Huck lit up like dynamite in a powder keg. Nothing could stop the tool from getting thrashed. Nothing, except the sight of Huck's half-naked honey.

"Babe, what's taking you so long with the pizza? I want your meat stick," Nicole pleaded, wearing a bra and panty set all new to Huck.

If the image of Allan scratching his nut sack wasn't enough to make Huck hurl, visualizing the love of his life craving the douche bags package was sure to cause projectile vomiting. Huck felt his heart skip a beat. He could feel his lungs collapsing. Like he'd being trampled by the bulls of Pamplona.

"Awk-ward," Allan remarked--escalating the tension, rather than cutting it.

And like that, there was only one thing left to do. Huck erupted like a roid-raging football linebacker desperate for a sack. But what Allan lacked in rage, he made up for in karate skills. Before he knew it, Huck found himself flipped on the ground, aching, with Allan's sweaty foot on his wind pipe.

"Look what you made Allan do to you," Nicole jumped in, adding insult to Huck's injury. "What are you even doing here? Didn't you get my text?"

"What text?" Huck mustered, his stomach turning from the queasy mixture of toe jam and heart break.

"I sent you a break up text an hour ago," Nicole replied, while grabbing her phone. Dagger, meet heart. But the gutting had just begun. "Oops," Nicole added. "I forgot to hit send."

"You broke up with me over text message?" Huck questioned, incredulous. All of a sudden, the room went quiet with disbelief. Huck tried to pick his jaw up from the floor as Nicole attempted to hide her embarrassment. Allan took a different tact.

"Who could go for a drink?" Allan brain farted, his foot nearly in Huck's mouth. Try a six pack.

*********

"Who was this woman masquerading as my girlfriend?" Huck wondered as he sat on the couch, looking at Nicole as if she were a complete stranger. This wasn't the woman he'd spent the last six years love, honoring, and cherishing. It wasn't the same girl who nursed him through sickness, and joked with in health. Huck had returned home expecting the Nicole he fell for while lost together in Murphy's Corn Maze. Who massaged him for hours after back breaking shifts at the Weenie Hut in college. Who had a smile as wide as the Mississippi. No. This couldn't be Huck's better half. His partner in crime. The woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Because that Nicole wouldn't text dump him for a douche bag the night before they were supposed to move to California together. That Nicole wouldn't be looking at him stone-faced while a cowboy clown scarfed pizza and sung hick hop lyrics to himself in the next room. No. There had to be some kind of explanation.

"I can't go with you to California," Nicole muttered, meekly.

But Huck wasn't about to let Nicole off that easy. "Oh really. You think? But hey, why not wait until the last minute to cheat on me?" Huck blasted.

"Hey, this isn't my fault," Nicole fired back, looking like she actually believed it.

"Right. Because I made you shack up with Sir Douche-A-Lot."

"Look. You're the one who chose making money over making babies." And there it was. The festering sore point in their relationship torn wide open. Baby fever was sweeping through St. Petersburg like a rabid tornado ripping through the Heartland. Biological clocks were ticking like time bombs, leaving Nicole at twenty-five feeling nearly over the hill for this baby boom. Nicole was the last hold out of her friends. Only it was Huck who was holding out on diaper duty. Nicole was content to stay in the sticks forever raising a litter of ankle biters. But growing up the pitied offspring of the town drunk, Huck didn't want his kid to be known as Redneck Realtor Jr. Huck wanted to make a name for himself that his future children could be proud of. And he realized leaving St. Petersburg was the first step to doing it. And although Huck knew Nicole would drag her feet to California, it was only then he realizes how lead-footed she really was.