Mrs. Marcus’ affair with a Zombie – Volume 2 of “The Zombie Witness” Series

March 3, 2014  1:45 pm est

Move over Fiona Apple, Charlie’s mom has been a bad, bad girl.  For years now.  We always knew it would bite her on the ass in the end but we never thought it would end the way it did.  The wind current caused by the butterfly’s wings.

Mrs. Marcus had many affairs but this one was different.  She thought she was falling in love.  It was different not only because of the love she was feeling but also because this gent had a legit job she’d be proud to leave her husband of 17 years for.  This fellow was a scientist!  And he could screw like the dickens!  No problems blowin’ her top with this guy.  He knew all of the right spots to touch and tap and rub….including her purse strings.  Mr. Marcus thought his lovely wife was using her part-time job salary on those new shoes and outfits when in fact she never had a job.  Unless you count going down on the good doctor in the parking lot of a Denny’s during his lunch hour.  Then she had many “jobs”.  And she did them well!  This time, on this day, the good doctor complained about a stomach ailment and a fever.  So she knew this afternoon she would be doing all of the work herself but she didn’t mind in the least, for she would do anything for this man at this point.  Even swallow.  She would never think about serving Mr. Marcus in such a way.  Not since their freshman year of marriage, that is.  She really wanted the good doctor to stick around and she would do anything to keep it that way.

So this day was no different  than the past year and a half when she would make sure he wouldn’t stray.  The only difference was that she about yacked after he finished.  It was not the same this time.  She could barely stand it.  All she thought was that it must have been his sickness that caused such a horrendous taste.  “He must be on some real awful medicine”, she thought, “Note to self sweetie, ‘take a day off every once in a while’ “. She took it like a champ and kissed him on his extremely hot forehead before she left him in his car in the Denny’s parking lot.

“Love you honey!  I’ll talk to you tonight.  Get some rest and I will see you tomorrow.”  She gets out of his BMW, looks around suspiciously and trots over to her minivan, slyly making her exit.  As she pulls out in to traffic she takes a glimpse into her rear-view mirror to see that the good doctor hasn’t moved from his spot.  “Perhaps he is checking his I-Phone for emails from work or texting  his wife that he’d be home soon…”, she thought, “Get better soon doc, i’m gonna need some real loving tomorrow night!”

March 3, 2014  2:09 pm est

Dr. Lewis felt like shit!  He couldn’t believe the new specimen that arrived the night before had sneezed its bloody nose right into his eyes first thing this morning.  “GODDAMN POSSUM LOOKING PIECE OF SHIT!”, he screamed, echoing through the lab as his colleagues chuckled.  They didn’t like Dr. Lewis much.  You could see as they all locked eyes with one another giving each other mental ‘high-fives’.  Dr. Lewis always made them do their work 7 times over to make sure no one screwed up because, as he always said, “It’s MY ass that’s on the line here!” Well, now it’s his ass that has to explode in the Denny’s restroom toilet.  There is NO way he can wait the 15 minute drive back to lab.  It was ‘go time’!  Mrs. Marcus was long gone at this point so he didn’t have to worry about her sticking around, wondering what he was up to, just to find out he has the worst diarrhea of his life.  This was much needed alone time.  He bolts out of his car making sure his ass cheeks don’t separate as he heads into the diner right passed the hostess and rampaging through the bathroom door not giving any regard to the possibility that there might be someone on the other side about to get a door flat in the nose.  Luckily, he was alone and he got the handicap stall for extra comfort.  In his rush to release the hounds, so to speak, he left his I-Phone in his BMW.  If he had brought it in with him he would have been getting the texts and the phone calls to have him first, “RUSH BACK TO THE LAB! SPECIMEN IS ON A RAMPAGE! NEED ADVICE!” Then secondly, “DO NOT COME BACK HERE, SPECIMEN ATTACKING EVERYDFHDSFH”. Then finally he would have heard the call or the voicemail that sounded more like someone left a message from inside the Chimpanzee home at the zoo because they didn’t have chimps at his lab, only rodent type animals, he would have found this very alarming.  What was more alarming to him right now was that, not loose feces but bloody clumps of tissue were exiting him.  By the time the good doctor looks down inside the toilet to realize this horrible nightmare is true, he keels over onto the almost as disgusting Denny’s bathroom floor.  The pain is unbearable.  It feels as though someone was shoving habaneros up his ass, repeatedly.  And now they have made their way up through his intestines and into his stomach.  He’s violently throwing up now.  Projectile vomiting what looks like bloody clots and tissue.

The virus has taken hold.  Left alone long enough, his hunger for flesh will peak and he has a buffet waiting for him right outside that restroom door.

If he’s lucky the next shift’s busboy will enter to take his last piss and tuck in his shirt before serving the blue hairs from Whitehurst.  For this is Senior discount hour…and there’s a line at the door.  But this day, Sonny the busboy won’t have to worry about getting pinched on the butt by the fat and friendly blue haired ladies(former whores from the fragile 40s).  For this day, he will be quitting his job but not in anger but in fear.

March 3, 2014  2:22 pm est

Sonny enters the men’s room dreading the day’s long shift.  Using the urinal for one last shake before tucking his shirt in and splashing his face with ice cold water to help him wake up and dry out from the joint he smoked on his walk in to work.  He put his earbuds back in his ears to start the day off right with some Bad Religion pouring into his brain, cleansing all of the ‘bullshit’ his teachers tried to jam in during the day.  “Thank god I’ll be graduating this year.  I can’t take much more of this shit” , he thought, “Then its off to Hollywood to start my career in band management.” Sonny already has an internship set up with Capitol Records.  He already has a hostel picked out until he can get on his feet and move into an apartment.  He has it all lined up.  Or so he thought.  Fixing his hair in the mirror and properly rocking out to some ‘Infected’ on his I-Pod.  He closes his eyes  to belt out the chorus just at the right moment to allow him not to see the good doctor slowly appearing behind him as if he were being raised from an invisible elevator.  The attack happens in less time than he can yell out an, “OH YEEEAHHH!” following the chorus—Dr. Lewis lunges forward and immediately latches on with a chomp on the side of the busboy’s neck!  Dr. Zombie has wrapped his arms around Sonny’s torso and arms leaving his bites unattended and unrelenting!  It leaves Sonny no choice but to back up frantically, pinning the good doctor between him and the wall.  The zombie snaps back his head at the same time ripping the busboy’s flesh from his body but hitting his dead head against the wall behind them cracking its own skull and dropping him to the floor letting go of the terrified high schooler.  The force of all of this action causes Sonny to fall forward writhing in anguish.  Grabbing at his neck, he notices he is bleeding heavily near what he remembers from Biology class as being his jugular vein.  “Its not squirting out, he frantically thinks, “so I should be okay as long as I get to a hospital”. Without even looking back at his assailant, Sonny attacks the bathroom door leaving much plasma and fright on the interior of the not-so-rest-room while making his exit.  As he flees the confines of this smelly and now bloody bathroom, the door slowly closes blocking the view of the former Dr. Lewis sprawled against the wall with a little piece of the busboy left in his mouth….the zombie begins to twitch, for this was just the beginning and no one at this point knows how to stop him.  No one will, until they are confronted with the only option left, if they are still alive to try it, that is.  As the bad doctor now lies alone on the floor twitching away, all you can hear from inside the blood-bathroom is Sonny echoing in the dining room while running out through the front lobby doors, “CALL 9-1-1!!!!  CALL 9-1-1!!!!  HELP!!!!HELP!!!” This little piggy went ‘wee-wee-wee’ all the way home.  He figured since he just lived 3 blocks away, Mommy ‘busboy’ could drive him to the emergency room faster than waiting for an ambulance.

March 3, 2014  2:45pm est

BREAKING NEWS FROM CHANNEL 13 NEWS ————–

Kardington Laboratories on the westside of the city has gone on lock-down!  WE REPEAT!  AT APPROXIMATELY 2:16PM SOMEONE FROM INSIDE OF KARDINGTON LABORATORIES HAD MADE A CALL TO 9-1-1 ASKING FOR EMERGENCY RESPONSE VEHICLES AND WHAT WE THINK WAS A URGENT REQUEST FOR A CALL TO BE MADE TO THE MILITARY.  We are trying to obtain the original 9-1-1 recording and as soon as we get it we will let you hear it ‘LIVE’ with us.  We’re sure this is only an exercise but keep it here and we will keep you posted on this developing story.  On an unrelated story, police are being called to a Denny’s restaurant about a disturbance involving an employee.  We will update you on this story at the 6 o’clock news hour. Now back to your regularly scheduled program, “One Life to Live”.

 

** “Have you ever heard a Zombie laugh before? – Volume 3 of “The Zombie Witness” series coming soon**

 

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Zombie-Hamsters were the culprits. Volume 1

March 3, 2014  9:55pm est

Mrs. Marcus (Mom) is slowly turning into a zombie.  She is “hungry” so she walks into her teen son’s (Charlie) room.  Perhaps to find him sleeping so she could munch on her first born.  She enters noticing quickly that he is not sleeping nor even in his room tonight.  He has run out when he was supposed to be grounded.  She can not think of this right now as her belly rumbles for something more than the blueberry yogurt and Jenny Craig dinners the freezer has developed little ice castles on.  She wants neither of these things….she wants meat, so to speak, and meat is what she sees.  The meat, in the form of 3 plump furry friends by the names of Billy Willy Do-Do, Travis Smelly and Andy Dicky Do.  These are her son’s hamsters.  They were always cute.  Now they look yummy.  Mrs. Marcus snatches Travis up quickly and begins to sniff his little body as if she were testing out his name.  You can see it in her eyes that she is beginning to mean business.  The virus has almost peaked. The next step is tasting what the urge has been screaming.  She closes her eyes, opens her mouth, raises the tiny fur ball to her face and slowly pushes Travis’ footsie into her diseased mouth.  She then bites his short fucking leg off with a frightful squeak and snap of Travis’ toothpick-like bone.  What’s left of the real Mrs. Marcus, confronts herself looking into the mirror hanging on the wall over the hamster cage, crunching down on what use to be one hell of a wheel spinner.  The human disgust takes over as she begins dry heaving and she throws Travis back into his cage.  The poor furry tripod is left to agonize with his kin Billy Willy Do-Do and Andy Dicky Do.  They are obviously concerned and run to the opposite side of the cage away from poor Travis ‘Tripod’ Smelly.

Cover of a comic book created by PETA as part ...

Image via Wikipedia

Mrs. Marcus runs out of the room and down the hall gagging and growling at the same time.  Mr. Marcus Sr.(Dad) sees this as he walks by the stairs leading to the second level of their home.  As he trots up the stairs after his wife, you can hear him mutter insensitively, “She better not be pregnant again or else!” He gets to the door and starts to knock impatiently, “Hun?  You okay?  Let me in please.  Do you want me to call Dr. Powell?”  He hears only silence now, the virus takes hold-she is dead now-but not for long, and decides to bust in after his wife.  The door closes behind him.  Now there are only muffled sounds of his voice followed by a horrendous screech and a tussle and then silence.  Mrs. Marcus got her meat on.

It is now 10:03 in the evening.  Good thing Charlie was bad tonight.  Hopefully by the time he sneaks back in Mom and Pop will be feasting next door or even better yet, they’ll be down the street at the new buffet that opened up, formerly known as The Whitehurst Home for Senior Citizens.  One could only morbidly hope.  For Charlie’s sake that is.

March 4, 2014  3:49am est

Charlie gets home late.  Stoned.  Drunk.  Ready to sleep.  He stumbles through the front door, apparently not caring at this point as to how loud he is being and at this point, does it really matter?  He makes it up the stairs passed the bloody banisters and bloody puddles on Mom’s beloved $60 a yard carpet that surrounds him.  Of course he doesn’t notice.  As well he doesn’t notice the bloody smears on the once closed bathroom door Mom and Pop had been behind just a few hours before.  “No need to pee, just to sleep“, he thinks to himself.  Charlie also thinks to himself why is his damn door is open but since he can barely stand at this point he decides to just slam it shut behind him in loud defiance towards the parental units.  “They’re going to pay”, he thinks, “when I move out and stop speaking to them, ha ha.” At last, the long awaited firm mattress and comfy cold sheets.  Charlie plops face first on to his bed and doesn’t move.  His last thoughts before he clunks into dreamland is, “Oh shit!  I forgot to feed ‘the boys’….ah, oh well, I’ll feed them extra when I wake up.  Sorry fellas, I know you’re hungry.  I will make it up to you.” Yes Charlie.  You will.  No worries, all you need to do is lie still.  They’ll do all of the work for you.  Who are ‘The boys’, you ask?  Oh they are Billy Willy Do-Do, Travis Tripod Smelly and Andy Dicky Do.  Now the other two go by a different name as well.  They can’t seem to decide on the right name right now, all they can think of is how hungry they are and they are no longer in the mood for hamster meat.  They smell teenager meat right outside their cage and this cage cannot hold them for long.  The virus has taken hold of them much quicker than it did Mrs. Marcus.  Charlie’s snores sound more like a dinner bell to these tiny little demons.  Sshhhh Charlie, it’s time for ‘the boys’ to poke and prod you now.  Ssshhhh, sleep tight.  Don’t let the zombie hamsters bite!  PETA is about to have their point made, ominously.

March 4, 2014  6:49am est

Dawn arrives with pain.  A lot of pain.  Charlie is laying on his back at this point.  While Charlie was away playing, he missed out on witnessing his mommy snapping off his pet hamster’s footsie…he also missed out on seeing his furry little tripod’d buddy tearing up his own kin and in turn creating little furry ravenous balls of fright….and he also missed out on, while being completely passed out, the fact that these clever creatures had crawled up his overly loose pant leg and entered his not-so-overly-loose asshole(Charlie had secrets).  The pain he is beginning to feel now that he is waking from his drunken slumber is not unlike one would feel if they were having small rodents chewing their way out of ones tummy…because, in fact, there are small rodents eating their way out of his tummy.  He lifts his shirt to reveal his skin being stretched and pushed in all different directions as his tiny buddies finish their travels through his intestines and are ready to break free like Andy Duschane in The Shawshank Redemption, pushing his way through the top soil and rain soaked sod.  Except its not top soil and its not sod they are clawing out of.  He lets out a shrill of terror as he notices his furry former friends Travis (Tripod), Billy Willy and Andy fuckin’ Dicky climbing out of his abdomen.  Charlie was moments, possibly seconds away from thinking his last human thought and the only thing that keeps coming to his mind is the culprit behind this maddness isn’t so much his new zombie pets but the reason behind being able to sleep through this ridiculous amount of torture that has been bestowed upon him for the past couple of hours has got to be that devilish liquid known as Four Loko, mixed with every and any type of liquor in his school buddy’s step-dad’s liquor cabinet.  He always swore it would be the last night he would take part in such absurdity.  Well, he was right.  It was his last night.

March 4, 2014  6:59am est

RIP – Charles Allan Marcus Jr. and his family.

But how did Mrs. Marcus contract this awful virus and where did it come from?  For that you will have to read the next installment in this new series of stories that come together and will be known as “The Zombie Witness”.  Eat your heart out Twilight disciples, literally, eat your hearts out.  PLEASE!

The next volume will be called “Mrs. Marcus’ Affair with a Zombie” or “Business as usual”  You decide.