Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous: A Dark Humor Read Online Free Page A

kept Harold from making any sudden moves.  He didn’t want to face the
werewolf over the ripped throat of his skinny pullover wearing master. 
                Donald sat Harold
down in one of the metal chairs.  A coterie of those group members who’d come
to the man’s aid swooped in and sat down real close to Harold.  One man sat
close enough for their knees to brush.  His face and skin so pale as to be
almost translucent.  He kept sucking on his cracked and oozing lips like a baby
on the bottle to get at the blood.  He stared at Harold.  Harold might have mistaken
the attention for personal interest if it weren’t for the man’s evil eye.  It
was a stare matched by a good three-fourths of the group.  Most of them very
gaunt folk.  He’d broken an important protocol by flashing his teeth at good
old Donald.  It was a defensive mechanism, really.
                Donald wandered
back to his original position and introduced Harold from afar to the rest of
the group.  Of course, he’d known Harold was coming.  The courts contacted him
and somebody paid a pretty penny for “membership” in the program.  Harold had
to fill out all the paperwork and pay a pretty hefty ’bonds’ fee in advance. 
Harold found this out after the fact and after the federal sponsored
’intervention’.  He rubbed his face and scooted forward a bit to put precious
inches between himself and the others in the group who were trying to become
one with him.  He should have just left.
                It didn’t take
long for Donald to launch into some clap trap about becoming normal.  Everyone
sang a mantra and Harold only got part of it, something about swearing off the
sins of the flesh and staying strong.   Then, it became a talk show with
members volunteering their feelings and trouble from the past week.  A group of
zombies mimed their attempt to go grocery shopping.  It didn’t end well. 
                “We all encounter
little bumps on the road to self-betterment.  While those people in the grocery
store didn’t applaud you for trying to get groceries, we do.”  Donald started
clapping and others in the group, including the zombies started clapped too. 
“Next time people start running from you I want you to walk tall and ignore them. 
They are only reacting out of fear and prejudice.  You can rise above it.”
                Then, one of the
zombies admitted to biting a woman on the head at the grocery store and the
clapping trailed off.  Another zombie sitting beside him raised her hand and said
she was the woman.  She started sobbing and Harold saw the skin flap forward on
top of her head where the zombie ripped open her flesh to get at the brains. 
The other zombies threw their now empty coffee cups at the zombie who’d sinned,
mainly he thought, for admitting to the faux pas.  Donald patted the crying
zombie woman’s back. 
                This was getting
good.  Add a few security guards and they’d have an episode of Jerry
Springer.      
                “Don’t you cry
now,” he said, “you’ve come to the right place.  We’ve all been through what
happened to you.  It’s a shock to say the least, but it’s possible to get back
to normal.” 
                The zombie woman
looked hopefully at Donald.  Harold felt sick.  She was a freaking zombie. 
Fresh looking sure, but on her way out.  Finite.  Kaput.  Ain’t nothing
bringing that woman back to good health.  Yet, Donald stood there telling her
things were going to be just fine. 
                A zombie body
after infection was in Caedocinis , electrical impulses didn’t stop,
awareness didn’t end, but their bodies stopped growing new cells and wounds
didn’t heal and old cells just kept going until they literally died and fell
apart.  Medical science didn’t have a cure.  He may be new at all this undead
stuff, but he understood