Free Brains for the Zombie Soul (a parody) by Michelle Hartz

what I could say. Whenever he was around, I couldn’t
take my eyes off of him. He had to know that he was being stared
at, and I was probably, “that weird girl,” at this point.
    So when he walked into the fantasy aisle at the
bookstore where I was looking at a book, and examined the shelf
right next to me, I got flustered. Trying to keep my cheeks from
going red, I finally said a casual, “Hi.” He was holding a book by
one of my favorite authors, and I said, “Oh, I love her work. Have
you read any of her stuff before?”
    “Not yet,” he said. “I’m going on vacation and
was looking for a good book to take along. Thanks for the
suggestion.” And he walked away.
    I floated through the rest of the day. I thought
of all the things I could say the next time I saw him. Of course,
as I did my errands around town in the following weeks, I kept a
look out for him. But I never saw him. I began to wonder how long
he was going on vacation. Was it an extended trip?
    One day, I was at a stoplight, and there was a
zombie on the corner holding up a “Will work for food,” sign, which
was typical for a weekday afternoon. There were no zombie
discrimination laws in place, so once someone was turned into a
zombie, finding work was really hard. And none of the typical
resources, like shelters and community kitchens, would help them
because they were zombies.
    When the light turned green and I started to
drive away, I got a good look at the zombie. His suit was dirty and
torn, and his skin was pale. But I recognized those high
cheekbones, handsome face, and long dark hair.
    I made a u-turn and pulled up next to him. “Can
I treat you to dinner?” I asked.
    He accepted, and we’ve been great friends,
roommates, and perhaps something more, ever since.

    (back to
TOC)

    ****

    Ronaldo and Julia
    The prestigious Cavender family was holding a
grand ball, and all the differently animated were invited.
    In fact, only the undead were invited, as the
Cavenders were very prejudiced against the living. They were jaded
by the way their comrades were treated, and they worked their
entire un-lives to surpass the lowly status they had when they were
living.
    Alas, the ball was a masquerade ball, so many
living persons were able to sneak in. One such young man, filled
with blood coursing healthily through his veins, was Ronaldo
Murillo. He was the only son of the Murillo family, a clan long
known for their hatred of zombies.
    He sneaked into the ball by painting his face
before putting on the mask, giving himself a pallid, lifeless
complexion. This technique was taught to him by Rose, his
girlfriend who recently dumped him. In fact, she was the reason he
was attending the ball. She would be there to see her best friend
who was recently turned into a zombie.
    As he was looking for Rose, he stumbled into the
most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on. He quickly asked her to
dance, and she accepted. She told him her name was Julia Cavender,
the daughter of the hosts.
    Upon receiving this news, he fled, but not
before she found out that he was Ronaldo Murillo, the son of her
family’s worst enemies.
    That night as she lay in bed, she couldn’t stop
thinking of Ronaldo. Since she couldn’t sleep, she went out on her
balcony and looked at the stars. “Oh Ronaldo. Why the hell did it
have to be Ronaldo? I wish he would leave his family, and I would
leave mine, and we could run away together. You know what, who the
fuck cares if he’s Ronaldo, he’s still hot.”
    “Then call me Bob,” said a man hiding in the
bushes below.
    “Ronaldo, is that you?”
    “Sure is babe.”
    “You need to leave,” Julia said. “If anyone
finds you here, they’ll pop a cap in your ass.”
    While she is trying to convince him to go for
his own safety, Ronaldo has climbed the trellis up to the balcony
and perched on the edge of the railing. “Yes.”
    “What?” asked Julia.
    “Yes, let’s run away together. Leave all of this
nonsense behind. We can get