Samurai Zombie Hunter

Chapter 1

Sex and Zombies

“So I’m walking down West Silverlake Drive because like usual I have to park a fuckin’ mile from my place. I look across to that park on the corner and I see these fuckin’ tweaker kids chasing after this zombie bitch. And you would think the bitch is doing that zombie stroll they do, but she’s bookin’ it. And these kids are like 15 or 16 and you gotta think that they’re meth’d out, so when the zombie bitch gets ahead of ’em, you would think she’s free. But just as the bitch looks like she’s gonna get away, another tweaker pops out of nowhere and she has to change direction.

So I’m watching this shit go down and she starts running next to the street. And I’m 300 feet away so I’m like ‘This shit is real,’ ya know. And just when the guys are about to tackle her, this fuckin’ bitch cuts out into the street and this fuckin’ Ram, fuckin’ Dodge 4x4 truck smacks the hell out of her. And this fuckin’ bitch rolls across the hood of the truck and flies like 200 feet in the air.

And I’m standing there and I’m like ‘What the fuck,’ because this bitch is headed right for me and I don’t know if I should move left or right. But in the end I’m just frozen there and the fuckin’ bitch lands right on top of me and knocks my ass to the ground. And I’m like ‘What the fuck? What the fuck!’

And I’m looking right at her and she has an oozing wound on her forehead. And her face is all sunken in. And she’s all pale with those fuckin’ zombie dark circles under her eyes and she’s drooling. And I’m screaming, ‘Get the fuck off me! Get the fuck off of me!’

And I’m all shaking and squirming because this bitch is right on top of me. I mean her fuckin’ cooch is sitting on my nads, ya know. And I’m like ‘Get the fuck off me.’ And she’s like ‘Ahhh.’ I’m like ‘Ahhh!’ And she’s all squirmin’ and stuff.

But I finally push her off me and I get up to my feet.  I look down at her - she looks fine by the way, because you know how these fuckin’ zombies are indestructible, right? - and I get right over her, look down and scream ‘What the fuck, bitch!’ And she looks up at me, smiles, points and says ‘Donavan.’

And I’m like ‘How does this fuckin’ zombie bitch know my name?’ So I scream at her ‘How the fuck you know my name, bitch?’ And she laughs and mumbles out ‘Bar Bar bathroom,’ and then laughs some more.    

And just then I look up and this 16 year old tweaked-out mother fucker pulls back this fuckin’ axe and cuts the bitch’s fuckin’ head off. That fuckin’ head rolled like 20 feet. So I ran into the fuckin’ street and got down over the head and yelled again ‘How the fuck do you know my name, bitch?’ But the thing is finally fuckin’ dead and it still has a smile on its fuckin’ face.

So I check myself out for scratches and bite marks and I’m fine. And instead of goin’ home, I now walk my ass back to the fuckin’ car and drive my ass down to Bar Bar because I know this fuckin’ place. This is where me and my two boys used to trail for tail. And when I get there it isn’t fuckin’ open yet because it’s one of these places that don’t even open til, like, nine. But I know the manager so I get in.

I’m like ‘What up,’he’s like ‘What up,’ and tell him about this fuckin’ zombie bitch and he starts to smile. But it’s not one of those ‘ha ha’ smiles. It’s one of those ‘I know something that you fuckin’ don’t’ smiles. And the fucka couldn’t even look me in the eye after that. But he says go ahead and I check out the men’s bathroom. After I couldn’t find anything I realize that the zombie bitch probably meant the woman’s bathroom.

So I go in and I look in the first stall and on the wall is this fuckin’ picture of me carved in the paint. And this is some fuckin’ Rembrandt shit because this fuckin’ thing looks exactly like me. Like, if I could take this home, I would hang it on my fuckin’ wall because it is like a fuckin’ picture. And underneath this fuckin’ picture are the words ‘For a really bad time in bed call…’ and it’s my fuckin’ phone number. Do you believe that shit?

So I scratch out ‘bad’ and put ‘mind-blowing’ and I leave with this shit stuck in my head. Do you believe that shit? Some bitch put that shit in the bathroom at my spot. But I start thinkin’ about this and the more I think about it, the more this shit is fuckin’ with my head. So I start to doubt myself. Because that is a whole lot of hate that it takes to sit in that fuckin’ stall for hours and carve that fuckin’ picture in paint. That fuck even shaded it in. I’m tellin’ you, fuckin’ Rembrandt!

So if that bitch could have so much hate in her to sit and do that, she must have been seriously pissed off at something that I did. And that’s not hard to believe because I have worked over some bitches in my day. But I started thinkin’, ‘I’m good in bed, right? Yeah I’m good in bed…’

But it plays on your head when you see shit like that. So I asked myself who would know for sure. So that’s why I called you. You had fun when we were doin’ it, right? I mean, it was good right?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. Van raked his fingers through his dark brown wavy hair. His deeply tanned forehead shined with the sweat that formed on it. And his thick masculine chest twitched as the adrenaline coursed through him.

“Lucy?” Van asked, losing the nerve that the lather from his storytelling had allowed him.

Lucy sat dumbfounded on the other end. Her mouth hung open and her porcelain skin and red hair made her look like a blow up doll.

“Lucy?” Van asked again, wondering if she was still on the line. He pulled back his cell phone to make sure that the call hadn’t ended. “You still there?”

“Ummm… yeah.”

“So, ummm, when we were doin’ it, you had a good time, right?” Van asked again a little more scared at what the answer might be.