Author: Patrick Witz
Genre: Horror Comedy
Synopsis: A wild party, lots of alcohol, an act of kindness, unforeseen revenge, prize money and the ghastly un-dead, conspire to unlock doors that probably should have remained closed.
WOW, some sick bastard out there must have like really, really hated me. Why else would the sick-o have mutilated my body to such a degree and gone to unbelievable lengths to silence me. I mean, it took me almost two weeks to wiggle like a worm to free myself from that shallow grave in the woods. Yes… if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m dead. A reeking, disgusting, busted-up guy that just joined the ranks of that ultimate oxymoron club, the living dead… a zombie.
Hey, don’t be judging me by my condition, I didn’t ask to be a zombie. I’m as shocked as you are to find out that zombies actually do exist. It’s like, what the hell, why me? What’d I do to deserve this putrid lifestyle? Wait, is living dead even considered a lifestyle? Regardless, here I am, one messed-up oozing remnant of a man.
As I stated earlier, whoever did this was one sick bastard. The only thing I can guess is that this immoral person performed these atrocious acts to set some sort of “this is what happens to you if…” kind of example. My kneecaps were shattered and the mean son-of-a-bitch used a sledgehammer and crushed every bone in my hands and fingers. They are so mangled that I can’t pick anything up or undo something as simple as a button. Which brings me to the next horrendous disfigurement? That monster wanted to shut me up like… forever! He or she sewed my mouth shut with wire… yup that’s what I said, wire… three buttons were stitched onto my lips and wired closed. I can tell by your faces, like OUCH, that must have hurt! Hell, I can’t remember, but I’d bet a million dollars that it did!
So, here’s where things start to get weird. I drag my ass out of the woods and I’m limp-staggering down this backcountry road in the middle of the night. When out of nowhere, a car comes screeching to a stop just behind me. I turn and get blinded by the headlights. In the shadows, I can sort-of make out two silhouette people hanging out the windows waving at me.
The driver yelled out, “Hey man, you need a ride to the party? Outrageous costume bro.”
Feeling a tad rotten, I thought what the hell, with these screwed up knees, a ride would sure beat walking and I'd get there quicker... wherever "there" is!
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