Zombie Versus Fairy Featuring Albinos Read Online Free Page B

teeth shining, I bite and tear a chunk of flesh from her neck. Blood spurts from her in a rhythmically pulsing geyser of red juice. The scream changes. It becomes a thing of pain and knowing, rather than of fear and wonder. I try to drag her from the shower but I lose my grip on her and she falls. On the mossy floor, she kicks her legs insanely. She tries in vain to staunch the colour squirting from her neck. In the shower water pooling on the green moss, her blood tries to fashion a pink outfit to cover her nakedness but it fails and swirls, reluctantly, down the tree drain. I consume her. I eat all the lovely healthy youthful parts of her. I do it so I can remain. So I can stay. Undead. I won’t make her like me. She won’t become a zombie. There won’t be enough of her left when I’m done. It’s a mercy to repay her kindness. Besides, I’m so hungry. I don’t take pleasure in devouring her. I need to do it; I must. I don’t do it because I want to do it; I hate it. I’m forced, through a biological imperative, to do all this, to sustain my miserable life, to prolong the monotony: the toil, the routine, the hassle. The strain. I do it because this is what everyone expects from me. I do it because this is what I have to do to be considered normal. My wife says, “Everyone has to do things they don’t want to do, Buck.”
    And that’s exactly why I don’t do it. Because I have to. I need to. But I refuse. I won’t be my hunger. I won’t do what zombies say I should do. I’m still sitting on the couch. Fairy_26 is still, safely, in the shower. While I wait for her to finish, I make a telepathic call to my wife. She’s probably worried.
    “Buck? Where are you? You’re late. You said you’d take me to get groceries, remember? What’d the doctor say?”
    I never know where to start with my wife. That’s part of the problem. We’re always in the middle of something. Nothing ever starts or stops. It’s always the middle.
    “The doctor said I’m depressed, Chi.”
    “Depressed? What do you have to be depressed about? You have everything anyone could possibly want. You have a great job; you have a great house; you have a wife who loves you . . . wait. Is that it? Are you depressed because of me? Should we go to counselling? Barry and Deepah are going to counselling. Deepah says it’s done wonders for them. She says they’re like teenagers again. Are you coming home now? You said you’d take me to get groceries, remember?”
    “I remember. I’ll take you to get groceries. I’m just going to be a little late.”
    “Why? What’s wrong? What’s going on, Buck? Are you okay?”
    “No I’m not okay, Chi. I’m depressed.”
    “About what?”
    “I don’t know. I just found out I’m depressed.”
    “Damn it. I should’ve gone to the doctor with you. I knew I should’ve gone to the doctor with you. Didn’t I tell you? There are all these things going on and I’m just finding out now. It’s so. Damn it. Why don’t you talk to me, Buck? You never tell me anything. Sometimes I feel like we’re strangers. I think we should go to counselling like Barry and Deepah. I really do.”
    “The idea of going to counselling depresses the hell out of me,” I say.
    “We really need groceries, Buck. There’s nobody in the house to eat. And we’re just about out of saliva. You know what I’m like when I don’t have saliva for my morning coffee. I don’t think either of us wants to go through another scene like that.”
    “If I have to go to counselling, I’ll throw myself into some kind of really big grinder.”
    “A grinder, Buck? Really? Where are you going to find a big grinder? It sounds to me like you just don’t want to go to counselling and you’re using your depression as an excuse. What’d the doctor say you should do?”
    “He gave me a prescription.”
    “A prescription? Oh God, Buck. A prescription makes it seem so much more real. Now I’m worried. I need a prescription, too. The