Poor Marc
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| Fiction Rated: Teen - Horror/Humor
‘Just another beautiful day in paradise,’ Marc thought, as a zombie tore into his abdomin. He knew that it hurt, but strangely felt a sort of cold detatchment. It struck him, then, that his death, which was now inevitable, seemed less important to him than, say, the price of tea in China. As the ghoul pulled a glistening handful of internals from where they had belonged, Marc looked around. ‘So much for the grocery store being a safe place to hide…’ he thought. Then he heard Karen scream, and he found the strength to look in her general direction. ‘THERE she is,’ he thought as they made eye contact. She seemed to be short one left arm, and a large chunk of meat was missing from her other shoulder. Oddly, his first instinct was to smile and wave to her. Hell, maybe he WAS smiling… he didn’t know. But waving didn’t seem to work too well; it felt like his arm was being weighed down with a lead brick. ‘Silly me,’ he thought, ‘its not heavy. That zombie is over there is chewing on it…’ Then Marc grimmaced (at least, he THOUGHT he was grimmacing) as he realized that the zombie had the nerve to walk away with his arm without even thanking him! The audacity of it all! “Damn ungrateful wretches!” he tried to shout, but all that came out was “glub, glub, glub…” The End (Well, at least for Marc)… hehehe… Originally published at: http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2853298/1/Poor_Marc
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