As I was walking along, I saw a poster in the window of another storefront. It was like one of those old Army posters that said stuff like “Uncle Sam Wants You”. This poster read: Resist! There was a phone number. It occurred to me this might be associated with the resistance. Now I needed a smart phone. I felt certain this was the group I needed to contact to find Jellybean. Then I felt a hard blow on the back of my head. Someone had thrown something at my head. I rubbed my head and turned around. It was a vampire. I could tell by his white pallor. The minute I turned around, his fangs popped out and he circled around me.
“What are you?” he said and smelled. “You’re not human.”
“Who the heck are you?” I cried still rubbing my head.
“Oh, sorry, I’m Lt. Colburn, brother to the vampire king. Now what are you?”
I squinted to get a better look. He was kind of regal and handsome with blond hair and soulful blue-green eyes. He was also very tall and towered over me like a solid oak tree. “I-I’m, ugh, a zombie,” I said reluctantly.
Lt. Colburn’s eyes grew large and he moved in very close to smell me. “Why do you not smell nasty and stinky? You smell like … formaldehyde or something else … something strangely sweet… grapey. And-and you’re so pretty! Zombies are ugly, decayed pieces of shit. You’re no zombie that’s for sure.”
I sighed and shook my head and said, “Unfortunately, I am. Somebody ‘zombie-fied’ me against my will.”
Lt. Colburn reached out and touched my blond hair and let it fall between his fingers. He was utterly enchanted and reached out to touch me, but I flinched away. “Hey!” I cried. “I’m not a toy,” I protested against the unwanted touching.
Lt. Colburn started laughing kind of like an idiot. He grabbed me and pushed me forward. “Oh, this is too good,” he snickered.
“What are you talking about?”
“You,” he replied still snickering and pushed me forward.
“Where are we going?” I protested.
“To my brother’s titty bar,” he replied.
“What? No, I …” I cried as he just kept pushing me forward to walk. “Hey, stop pushing all right. I can walk on my own. And why don’t you just pick me up and we can fly?” I asked.
“Um, well, fuck! I’m not a very good flyer,” he replied sheepishly.
“Oh, aren’t we just a pair,” I said rather sarcastically. “Beauty and the lame-ass.”