It had been a long day.  My incompetent boss yelled at me again, some butt-biscuit side swiped my car and took off and I had an epic argument with my girlfriend last night.  I had to “apologize” so she would get off my back… Whatever.  At least I knew that tonight would be better, I already made plans.

I was going to shut off the phone, mute the TV, crank up some metal and punk and watch vintage roller derby footage.  I had plenty of beer in the fridge, but I need some lime cilantro taco flavored chips.  I pulled into the Snag-n-Dash to pick some up.  The door pinged when I came in, and just as I walked past the ATM I saw a zombie in aisle 3.

“Great”, I said, “just what I need, a shambler.”

The guy behind the counter looked scared.  He was just staring as it was slowly making its way up towards the register.  I sighed, he must be new in town.

I said, “Don’t worry, it isn’t fresh and can’t move around very fast anymore.  Where are you from?”

“Uh, Plowdonk.”

I thought so:  A hick from up north.

“Is that a…”

“A zombie? Yeah. They’re okay; just a hassle, mostly.  They just do the stinky shuffle and slow down traffic, clear out public parks, that sort of thing.  The National Guard and is supposed to be cleaning them up, but they don’t seem to be working as hard as they could.  You know how it is with government workers.  Just make sure to lock your back door and close your garage.  You would be surprised how many people forget.  The zombies are slow, so if you keep your eyes open and stay away from them, you’ll be fine.  Oh, and whatever you do, don’t hit them with your car.  They will dent the fenders and the mess they leave is nasty.  The car wash guys won’t touch it, so you’re on your own with a bucket and a hose.”

“So, where do you live?”  I asked.  I was wondering if he had a chance of surviving until his next shift, or if he was smarter than average and would actually last through the weekend.  I heard shuffling steps, and cans falling to the floor when it bumped into a shelf.  I found the chips in aisle 4 and quickly took two bags.

“I live about two blocks from here, in the Sharlatan Apartments.  I got it for really cheap.   It’s a basement apartment, but it’s really nice.  There are windows on the top half of the wall, and they just repainted and carpeted.”  He was glancing over my shoulder.

“Oh, okay.”  I said, reaching the register.

“Yeah, you’re dog food,” I thought.  “Nobody does home improvement around here.  It must have been a major cleanup.”  I looked at him, thinking, “I’ll bet my chips and beer you’ll be doing the wiggly man dance by morning.  Too bad, he seemed like a nice kid.”

I tried to change the subject.  “Well, you better ring me up, he’s getting closer.”

The zombie wheezed as it approached the sunglasses display.  It sounded like it was being squeezed under a car after the jacks buckled.

The cashier’s eyes were wide as he watched the zombie over my shoulder.  He tried to ring me up three times before I just dropped a couple of dollars on the counter and grabbed my chips.  It was time to go.

“See ya later”, I said.

“Hey!” He shouted,  “What am I supposed to do?”

The zombie was shuffling behind the counter.

“Just hit him in the head, it works every time.”

I turned to go.  It was getting late and my chips were getting impatient.  Then I stopped.  The poor hick didn’t know anything.  He looked kind of pathetic, allowing himself to be cornered and now he was throwing packs of cigarettes and breath mints.  The zombie was closing on him, and he was getting desperate.

I stood for a moment, torn.  One survival rule I have is to never get involved.  I have seen too many  “Good Samaritans” get eaten to death and then stand up when they should be nicely dead. The kid ran out of things to throw, and started swatting the shambler’s head with Slim Jims. The zombie let out another slow wheeze as its mouth opened in anticipation, it’s black tongue lolling out.

“Frikkin’ zombies.”  I really didn’t have time for this, but I couldn’t just walk out.  It would be like ignoring a child or a puppy.  Like I said, pathetic.  My bat was in the car, but I didn’t have time, so I looked around.

“Hey, flesh bag!” I yelled, and threw a gallon of expired milk at the side of his head.  Then I came in close, smacking its rotten face with a closed umbrella, but staying just out of reach.  The zombie didn’t react; it was too focused.  He got the kid pinned against the window that faced the gas pumps.  They looked like kissing teenagers as the zombie held him in a tight hug and started snapping, then biting.  I winced a little when it bit off the kid’s nose and the blood spattered against the glass.

The kid was screaming like he was the defending champion in a noise contest.

“I tried to tell you,” I said to him.

You can’t save someone who doesn’t listen.  I thought maybe I should call the undead hotline, but it was always busy and they probably wouldn’t come out anyway.

“God, that guy’s loud.  I can’t hear myself think.”  I thought.

I knew it was too late, but I figured what the hell.  I picked up the hot dog roller and smashed it over it’s sloughing head.

“Oh, that’s just f’ing perfect,” I cursed under my breath.   I really liked that shirt, now it looked like a zombie goo Rorschach.  “I was done with this day, had my chips in may hand, but no.  I ignored my rule and hung out to save the cute lost puppy.  Now he’s gonna be a fresh runner and my Misfits shirt is is covered in zombie parfait.   Forget the chips.  I’m hitting the beer.”

I was about to leave when if finally hit me; maybe things weren’t so bad after all.  I whistled to myself as I emptied the cash register, grabbed a basket, and started shopping.