An Even Three

The other night I went bowling and drinking (the two go hand in hand, unless you're thirteen, and even then, who knows). Sometime between drink three and drink four I got the urge to jot down a story idea but found myself without paper or writing implement. So I used the Note function on my phone, which allowed me about three thousand characters to write this:

"I am being stalked by a zombie. He's unlike other zombies in that he's completely cognizant; he sits on my front porch and taunts me. I have a porch swing and he leans back in it, kicking his feet against the rail. He says, 'Come on out, little girl,' and flashes his rotted teeth at me."

This is based on a dream I had a few nights ago about facing off with a zombie named Rickshaw. He was a bit of a gentleman until it came time to eat my brain. I shot him in the head a few times but he was unfazed. Eventually, I figured if I couldn't kill him, I would have to at least neuter him. So I got a friend to pin him down while I used a pair of pliers to pull out all his teeth. I'm not sure how any of this will factor in to the story, but there will be a story. (Which, come to think of it, was also probably partially triggered, however subconsciously, by Richard Matheson's book I Am Legend.)

Man, it has been all about zombies since November. I promise you, next month I will only post about non-zombie related things. Such as crime fiction, dystopian futures, and prostitutes. What cheery topics I choose to write about!