Now

“…ster Stanley? Can you hear me?”

The woman’s voice intrudes on my fog. I’m enjoying my fog, it’s peaceful. It was quiet.

“Miisster Stanley?” She stretches it out. “Carl?”

“Yeah, I hear you. Now go away.” I go to turn over and find myself restrained. Ankles, wrists, chest, and head. All strapped down. Tight. (more…)

Fearless Leader Nicky Tesla failed to return on air at the top of the past half hour, all you loyal listeners both among the living and, uh, existence-impaired out there howling with the donkeys. This is Jimbo Weiland, the Court Foole, on KRAK.

FADE DOWN. That was”The Liberty Bell March” by John Philip Sousa, better known to most of you basement-dwelling, bong-scraping mold gnomes as the theme from ‘Monty Python’s Flying Circus.’ Aaaand… we’re back. Well, I am. Fearless Leader is a harder case to argue. As my Dad used to say, he went to defecate and the swine devoured him. (more…)

Okay, so I was not “situationally aware” that morning. Sue me.

Considering what I had planned, you’d think I’d be all keyed up. But last night I’d been all alone in the house. The house that had been empty since my wife took our kids back to South Carolina, two weeks ago. My only companion had been a fifth of Jack and the week-old notice that I was being replaced at my job. It had arrived the same day as the third final notice from the pediatricians and the second final notice from the dentists. (more…)

Waking at 6.00am Daniel usually struggled to open his eyes, but this morning he felt fresh. Last night had been a nightmare. Trying new tactics had worked well at first but soon his small band of fighters had been split up and went down like rookies. Daniel was the last man left to fight off the incoming horde and the adrenalin got him through the first few kills but there were too many. Just before he was wiped out though the server went down and X-Box Live was out for the rest of the evening. As a result he’d had an early night and with tomorrow being Good Friday he looked forward to meeting up with his friends in the pub after work and a long weekend. (more…)

A Zombie Apocalypse Love Story

Joseph had seen them heading out to check out the zombies hanging around No. 4 wind turbine; ‘Sarge’, ‘Gomer’ and Barnes, the rancher that they’d hooked up with two days back. The ranch had five wind turbines built on easements leased to a Texas power utility, and the ranch was unlikely to ever be without power. They had power, and a good, deep well; now they needed food, some kind of fence, and a lot more; an endless list. (more…)

“Mother,” asked Seymour, “what are you doing out of bed?”

The old woman didn’t answer. She was carrying a lit wicket inside an archaic, silver, antique candle holder and the hot wax was dripping down onto her wrists. There was no need for this of course as the hallway was already ablaze with light courtesy of the best bulbs which G.E. had to offer. Plus the cold afternoon sun, which was brightened by the high piles of leftover snow outside, shone fearlessly through every available pane. (more…)

May 18: Riley’s birthday. She was turning thirteen, a ceremonial number in many cultures. The number when a child became a young adult. She packed a small backpack taking with her a flashlight, matches, binoculars, ammo and beef jerky. She brought the .30-30 along, leaving the .38 hidden outside the cabin in a plastic bag under a rock. (more…)

“Mr. Whelan, Mr. O’Keeffe, why do you persist with this ludicrous idea of returning to Dublin? Even on some amoebic intellectual level you pinheads must understand that Dublin is shut to us forever. It is home only to the teeming dead. Teeming! Pressed tightly together in the parks and thoroughfares. Moaning beneath the statues of our baffled Patriots. Staring myopically at nothing. Bereft of stimulus. Swaying in the wind from the Dublin Mountains. Sodden and mildewed by the rain off the sea. There is nothing for you there anymore my little ex-junkie friends. I’m afraid you can never go home. Don’t ask me again.” (more…)