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Zombie Box Social

This is the first thing I ever wrote. I was kicked out of my house for writing it. I regret everything.

Day One

The scratching on my window was growing louder. It had woken me up, but I didn’t think twice about it. Maybe it was just a bird doing stupid bird things. But the scratching was becoming irritating. It became clear to me: something had to be done about the bird.

The girl that I had been sleeping with. I had just noticed her. Her name escapes me even today, but she was beautiful. Luscious breasts, long, blond hair, tall, silky smooth skin. She was the perfect specimen of beauty. A creation of some other being than God– she was too beautiful to be created by Him. With her head on my chest, sleeping soundly, I knew I had done my job last night– I had obviously banged the living shit out of her.

Whispering in her ear, “Honey, can I take care of that bird?” elicited no response from her. So I poked her. No movement. She wasn’t dead or anything like that but the night hadn’t treated her body too well, apparently. Neither had I. I sat up and looked out the window to get a look at my irksome avian friend.

A man was scratching my window. The man was sickly pale, sporting stringy and long black hair, with bags under his eyes. He was wearing a ripped t-shirt, and there was a lot of blood staining through the chest area. His arms seemed to be bulging with veins– crossing every which way, making him look as if he had colored his veins on his skin with purple marker. They eyes were bloodshot. Everything immediately became clear:

I was on an awesome LSD trip. Or this guy was. Either way, one of us was totally fucked up. I had never taken LSD before and probably didn’t even mean to but the box social I had attended the evening before was a bit of a mess; everyone was buttfucking each other and taking pills.

The man stopped scratching. He howled into the sky, spitting blood up. He paused. I took a second to breathe. This is some good shit, I thought.

Suddenly the window exploded inward into my room, covering the rug surrounding my bed with shards of glass. The man had bashed the window in with his head and was now lying three feet away from me, howling in pain. He stood up, scrambling to find his balance, still screeching something horrible. There was glass in his eye. But he didn’t pull it out. It became apparent to me that I wasn’t on LSD. That man might have, but I definitely wasn’t, because I’m pretty sure regular household objects like chairs and lamps try to eat you when you’re on LSD and not other people who are on LSD.

Obviously I was dealing with a zombie.

The zombie– this waste of human flesh– jumped at me, mouth agape He was trying to bite me. In one swift movement I hopped out of bed and pushed the girl towards him.She could buy me some time to get to my closet, I thought. Her head met his and he was knocked to the floor again, with her almost lifeless and naked body pinning him down. I rushed to the closet. Slamming the door open, I looked to the ground– no shotgun. Where had I put it?

I remembered what my mother had told me the day before she was taken from me by the gestapo. “Charlie, I left the shotgun in your sock drawer”. Those words always haunted me, but they now made sense: the bitch moved my fucking gun. Within three seconds my sock drawer was open and my shotgun had been procured.

Cocking the gun, I ran over to the girl and zombie and pushed her off of him. “I’ll show you,” I said, cocking my gun, “to wake me up at eleven in the morning you dirty chicken rapist.” I jammed my foot deep into the zombie’s chest. My foot sank deep into his chest cavity. He let out a painful howl. I cocked my gun and aimed at his head.

“Die, cunt!”. I pulled the trigger. The blast destroyed his head completely. Blood was everywhere. My ears were ringing. I was still naked.

The girl was sprawled on the floor near my bed. She was starting to awaken. Something told me that the shotgun blast was her alarm clock for the day. She got on her knees and tried getting up. While she was in this position I was starting to get some deja vu. The girl had been on her knees in my presence before. It took nearly a minute for her to get up without my help.

She turned to me as she sat up, but still slouching. Her eyes wandered to my penis, then to my six-pack. I was getting eye-fucked. She looked into my gorgeous eyes and stammered out, “How did I get here?”

I told her that it didn’t matter. All that mattered now was that we get the fuck out of there. She seemed unhappy with the answer I gave her, so I pointed at the zombie.

“Oh,” she said, “Holy shit, you killed a guy”.

“I think he was dead before I killed him, if that makes any sense,” I replied.

“It doesn’t, but it’ll do for an answer I guess. Hi, my name is Jessica,” she said, going for a handshake. I wanted to tell her that a handshake wasn’t the proper reward for saving a life– a hand job was. But in an amazing moment of clarity, I just bit my tongue instead.

“Hi, my name is Charlie,” I responded, walking over to my closet. “Would you like some clothes?” I picked a bra and some jeans from my closet and tossed it to her.

“Nice to meet you,” Elizabeth said. She started to dress in front of me. I put on the t-shirt and jeans I had been wearing the night before. I knew they were from the night before because of the vomit stains on the shirt and the ketchup stains on the crotch part of the jeans. Don’t ask.

After we dressed, we stared at the headless body lying near the window. “What should we do with it?” she asked.

“Something tells me we should take it outside, but could you do me a favor and turn on the news?” She fumbled with the remote sitting on my night stand.

“How do I–” she said

You have to change inputs, so hit INPUT” I said.

“Alright I’m doing that but it’s not working.”

“Hit TV and then INPUT or else it won’t work.”

“Alright I did that.”

“Then why isn’t my TV on?”

“Maybe the cable isn’t on. I’ll hit CABLE and then POWER and then TV and then POWER.”

“Yeah that’s fine but you still need to change inputs on the TV on and then hit INPUT so it switches to that input.”

“I’ll change inputs and then turn the TV.”

Michelle was obviously retarded. I snatched the remote away from her and turned on the news.

“Fox News, Charlie?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “What were you expecting?”

“Something not shit,” she retorted.

“You may be gorgeous but I have a gun. You have tits. One of these things can save us from zombies and one of these things can get in the way of lifting heavy objects. I’d like you to take a guess and shut the fuck up.”

She was silent. I had won the battle. The truth was that I trusted CNN just as much as Fox, but Fox was closer to Cinemax, so I watched it more often.
The television showed me what I feared most: total chaos. Talk of satellites, disease, and secret government experiments littered the screen. They all pointed to the same thing: zombies.Undead, they called them. We were warned to stay inside, not attempt to contact loved ones. I laughed. My cell phone provider was Verizon; I couldn’t contact my family even if I had wanted to. Or loved them.

I heard sirens in the neighborhood. “We’re staying in, Amanda,” I said. I struck on one of my pecs and lit a cig. “It’s going to be a long weekend, Jane. Strap in and get ready for the ride of your life.” I think the line was from a movie. That’s why I said it. I don’t even smoke, but I knew I looked really cool when I did it.

I am currently in a closet with a laptop writing this. I shall write to you tomorrow and update you on what happened the rest of the day. Possibly even what happens tomorrow as well, if I survive.
I hope you all make it through the night.

With respect,
Charlie Brown

Day Two

I’m downstairs in the kitchen in a pool of my own blood. I know it’s my own blood because it tastes like type AB. Janessa, the girl I woke up to yesterday, is gone. Where she went is anyone’s guess.

We used tables, chairs, anything to block off the windows and doors yesterday. Luckily, I had a seemingly infinite supply of nails and screws to take care of all of it. And power tools. Don’t remember buying those, but then again, who cares. This is my zombie experience.

We went to sleep very late. After nailing things to walls, killing a zombie, and losing the remote, Shawnee knew I was a man. We slept together, but we didn’t have sex. I didn’t have a condom, and the only reason I didn’t use one the night before was because it was her first time and everyone knows you can’t get pregnant the first time.

We both awakened in the afternoon. The sun was shining through my blinds. An actual bird woke me up this time. The first thought that went through my head was that everything had been a dream. But I turned the television on and saw even more wanton destruction. It seemed that the zombies’ numbers were growing. My area was relatively safe, but if the zombies ever broke into a jog instead of that pussy little limp dragging shit that they do, my whole entire community was going to be screwed.

Mary sat up, “Charlie, you’re my hero”. She smiled. I could tell that she was in love with me.

“I enjoy sandwiches too, Cheryl,” I said. It seemed like a subtle tip-off: If she wanted to be with me, she was going to have to make delicious sandwiches for me. In return, I would show mild interest in her. Maybe make some fleeting eye contact. She hopped out of bed and I gave her a little pat on the butt, “Chop chop”.

Ten minutes later, I heard a scream. “She better bring it to me in bed,” I muttered. But it soon became apparent that the screaming wasn’t a beckoning call to the downstairs table, but a call for help.

I cocked my shotgun. I hurried down the stairs, yelling for her to shut the fuck up. If she kept screaming, well, it would then confirm that she wasn’t just being a total bitch. Of course, she kept screaming. I cocked the gun.

“Freeze!” I yelled. There Christina was, butter knife in hand, going face to face with a zombie. I cocked my gun and started to scream and yell at the zombie. This did nothing for Jane’s case, however, as the zombie seemed to have hearing problems. Cocking my gun, I charged at him. “I said shut the fuck up!” I yelled, hitting the zombie over the head with my shotgun. The butt of the gun lodged in his brain. “Throw me the knife!” I called to the buxom blond beauty.
She tossed me the butter knife. I attempted to catch it, but her breasts must have thrown her off because I didn’t catch the knife. Don’t give me shit about that being my fault.

This terrible throw only put me in even more rage. In one swift movement, I balled my right hand into a fist and thrust it towards the zombie’s head. My fist penetrated the zombie’s forehead. I opened my hand and ripped its brain out. The zombie went limp but I, but I kept my hand in its head, held high above the ground. I kicked the zombie in the stomach and the gun became dislodged as the zombie fell Single-handed, I cocked the gun, flipped it around, and shot it in the head. Blood sprayed everywhere, creating a mess that my housekeeper was going to have “mucho funno” cleaning on Monday.

I bellowed a battle-cry, “Weeee!” and tore a piece of brain with my mouth, swallowing only to take another bite. Avery was slack-jawed. She wasn’t used to this shit.

“You’re not used to this shit, eh Melinda?” I inquired. I already knew the answer before she even said it.

“My name is Jessica, asshole,” she said. She was obviously unhappy.

“It’s not nice to call the guy who saved you from a zombie an asshole, cunt.”

“That wasn’t a zombie, fuck bucket,” she replied.

“Then who was it?”

“My father.”

I started to go dizzy. “You just ate my father’s fucking brains,” she said, “you just killed him.” Everything was getting darker. No way this was happening. “I was screaming in joy,” she said. How could this happen? How could this girl just back-talk to me like that?

I passed out.

And here I am now, Day 2 of this zombie invasion not even over. Reader, I hope you get this before it’s too late and send help. I’m hearing scratching and moaning, and my parents are on vacation so it surely can’t be them. The television is still blaring upstairs. Sirens grow louder. There’s only so much more of this shit I can take.

With respect,
Charlie Brown

Day Three

Dearest reader,
The shooting has stopped. The bombs have finished falling. The Sun is coming out again. I mean, the Sun was never really gone. It goes away at night, but that’s a given. Zombies had nothing to do with the Sun being gone for an extended period of time is what I meant to say.

When I woke up this morning I was in the hospital. I wasn’t in a room however– I mean– Christ. Fucking semantics.

Okay, I was in the bathroom. I don’t fucking know why I was but I was. There was an I.V. connected to my right arm, and somebody (or maybe something) had placed a blue wool blanket on me. There was cold pee on the blanket. I know it was pee.

You can always tell when it’s pee.

Crawling up a full-sized mirror, I looked at myself. Here I was, using a pee-covered blanket to keep warm in a hospital bathroom. Zombies have killed everyone. I would never met another human-being again. This was it. I looked in the mirror.

I looked like shit. My left eye was swollen, a cut on my forehead looked too real– too clean– to be fake. No bite marks though, that’s what matters.

It’s now dawned on me that nobody in the entire world will experience the joy of being tickled ever again.

Wish a clean swing of my right fist, the dirty mirror I was standing before shattered. Glass skittered everywhere. Some of it stayed in my knuckle.

“Dinner”, I said aloud.


The entire hospital was empty, much like a movie set. But in the interest of ending this, I heard a noise coming from the 24th floor. It must have been a television. I ran to the room I assumed the television was in. A television was on. It was a rerun of Lizzie McGuire. At this point, I lost all semblance of sanity. I had screamed for help, but it was useless. There was nobody around for miles that didn’t want to taste my dirty-as-fuck sunburned flesh. And then a way out of finishing this story appeared.

A nurse came rushing in. She was good-looking, no doubt about it, but she also seemed to be worn down. Her hair was a blond and stringy mess. Her lipstick smeared on her face.

A bite mark on her arm.

I ripped the I.V. out of my arm, because I never mentioned taking it out earlier. Blood fountained everywhere. The nurse charged at me. Thinking fast, I jumped over a hospital bed to a nearby window and sprayed it with blood. The zombie nurse sprang forward over the bed… and out the window. Shattered glass littered the inside of the room as I heard her final call, “Preciousssssssss!” These things are like fucking animals, I swear.

Another nurse came in. This one wasn’t an Undead Warrior, I could tell. Don’t really know why I had a hard time telling with the other nurse, but whatever. My story, not yours. Anyways, she walked in laughing to herself.

“You think that was fucking funny?” I yelled, “Do you know how much of this zombie bullshit I’ve dealt with in the past, what is it, four days?” The nurse kept laughing. “I’m not afraid to kill you,” I screamed, “I’ll push your ass out of this goddamn window just like that zombie!”

The nurse stopped laughing. She was still smiling as she said, “That bitch was some retard from the mental ward! We let her dress up as a nurse! HA HA HA!”

We both laughed together. The music started to kick in and the lights dimmed. We were still laughing as I poured the two of us glasses of some bubbly. She began to undress.

She unbuttoned her blouse. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so every button was just another step closer to glory. Six buttons and her shirt was open. Her breasts were full, definitely size D’s. She pulled off her skirt. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“How do you like my shaved pussy?” she asked. I nodded my head. Words weren’t needed for this. The nurse walked over to me and started to rub me. “You’re hard,” she said. No shit, this was fucking awesome, I thought.

She started to kiss me, all tongue. Before I knew it, all of my clothes were off. She jumped in the hospital bed. her legs were wide open, her mouth gaping.

“Ohhhh Charlieeeeee, fuck me pleaaaaaaaase! Fuck me rawwwwwwwww. Give it to my pussy baby oh baby baby. Yesss”

Just as I was about to jump on top of the nurse, the music stopped. We both heard a small bump. Then a large one. A zombie burst through the middle of the bed, its body ripping through the nurse’s torso. One hand was up as he held her heart like some prized trophy.The other hand was holding part of her spinal cord, torn from a formerly fine piece of ass.


The blast from my unit decapitated the zombie. Game over.

It wasn’t until a pencil hit me in the back of the head that I realized I was in class.

Yelling and screaming about fucking nurses fucking zombies fucking me.

The teacher looked at me, awestruck. “What did you just say?” he asked, all negative-like.


A little girl was crying in the seat behind me. Oh no. I had fallen asleep as a Teacher’s Assistant at the local preschool.

Children were throwing up everywhere.

One kid was repeatedly hitting his head against the desk. “Why is he doing this to us?” cried the child. “What did we do wrong?”

“I’m, uh, going to go now,” I said.

I walked out of the room, out of the school, into my car. Everything was fine. It was all a dream. Sure, I was going to get charged with sexual harassment, but it’s better than being eaten by a zombie.

Or a retarded nurse.

With respect,
Charlie Brown