I’d rather roll around in a bed of broken glass shards than listen to a Pop song.  I can’t think of anything worse.  Oh wait, I can —  singing and dancing along, to the tune of a cheesy Pop song. In that case, I’d rather roll around in a bed of broken glass shards, and then jump into a pool of lemon juice.  Then rub my skin vigorously with rock salt.   That I was belting out to a whole play list goes to show how intoxicated I was last night. After unearthing a bottle of red from the pantry, Dita decided we needed to celebrate, and proceeded to hook up her iPod to the portable speakers in the lounge.   My eardrums were immediately assaulted by her Dance Party Mix collection, which was [Read More]


        A few dozen infected Twitchers were waiting outside of Peoples Coffee in Newtown.  I don’t think they were lining up for lattes.   Curious to know what had them so enraptured, I risked a few steps closer.  Stopped in my tracks when I spied a blue sneaker. On the foot of a severed, brown leg on the ground.  Shit.  A fresh kill.   I slowly backed away to avoid detection and the blood spilling from the sidewalk.  I was about to turn right on Riddiford Street when I heard it – the sound of pursuit.  Judging from the increasing volume of feet on pavement, it was headed towards my direction. From my position at the end of Constable Street, I sighted a big black umbrella running towards me.  Limping. Sprained ankle, I thought.   Swinging wildly, dainty hands [Read More]


        “Not preparing is choosing to die.”  I read that somewhere, probably on the wall of a public bathroom stall. I don’t want to die.  At least not too gruesomely.  And not slow either.   Preferably in my sleep, but the chances of that are rather slim these days.   Stupid zombies.  Can’t even die properly anymore.   Sun’s out today after a week of rain, the full blast of its rays reaching out to melt my retinas through the double-glazed lounge window.  It was a beautiful and spectacular morning — well,  almost.  If the quiet wasn’t occasionally intruded by the groaning of the Undead, echoing in the distance. Finn slept over last night, after a PS4 marathon of Dying Light, and was snoring away in the spare room, so I refrained from checking [Read More]

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