Monster Burger: A zombie horror comedy (24/7 Demon Mart)

by D. M. Guay

  Although I could finally see why Demon Mart kept zombies around. Acid whips? Pixies? They kept right on working. They defanged the baby Larries, then used some sort of short sharp garden knife to slice them off of the main stalk. They worked, no matter what chaos raged around them, even though Larry had already eaten one of their friends.

  But boy. Larry's stalk must have been made of pretty tough stuff, because it took two zombies to cut off one baby. Then another zombie to walk it over to the pot, acid whips thwacking, where DeeDee waited to transplant it. I watched her cover each Larry's roots with a scoop of peat, hit the floor to avoid an acid whip, then sit up and water him from the bucket I'd brought her. Man, she was smooth. Even with all that chaos around her, she took the time to scratch each baby under the chin and kiss the top of its head.

  It's like she had a preternatural sense for those acid whips. She tucked and rolled out of the way before I even knew which direction they were gonna thwap. Then she'd roll right on back like it was nothing.

  She was so busy, she didn't notice the naked Ed McMahon fluttering around Larry. Oh, but I sure did. That mole-ridden menace locked eyes with me. He held up his arm, then pumped it up and down twice like he was giving me the “Go” signal at a cheap drag race. Then he flipped me two middle fingers.

  “What the? Jerk!”

  He flew directly onto the shoulder of the closest zombie, grabbed hold of his electric collar and snapped it off. The collar clinked to the floor.

  Holy. Shit.

  My eyes shot from zombie to zombie, and that's when it hit me. That was a go signal. A pixie sat on each zombie's collar. Each one of those pixies looked right at me, unbuckled that collar, then chucked it to the floor. They fluttered up and away into an open heating vent, shooting me double birds the entire way.

  Oh. Fuck.

  I stared at the collars. Broken. On the floor. This can't be happening.

  I shook all over. The zombies looked up and around slowly, confused, like babies waking up from a nap. They grunted and sniffed the air. They had stopped cutting baby Larries off stalks. They had stopped licking red Larry goop off the linoleum. That wasn't what they wanted to be eating. They'd rather be eating...Gulp. We're screwed.

  DeeDee cooed at baby Larries, moving from pot to pot watering, rolling away from acid whips, unaware of the awakening unfolding around her. She didn't see. She didn't know. But the zombies sure noticed her. They eyeballed her like she was a glass of water, and they'd just shuffled through Death Valley.

  Oh God. They were gonna get her. Just like my dream. I couldn't let them get her. I had to save her. I tried to move, but couldn't. My body felt like ten thousand pounds of solid lead.

  “Dee—” My mouth was so dry the words got stuck. My tongue was glued to my teeth.

  Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh. Uuuuuuuuuuhhhh. Aaaaaaaaaaaar.

  Move, Lloyd. Come on. You can't let zombies eat the love of your life!

  The vision of DeeDee as the drooling Lloyd-eating zombie in my dream kick started me into action. It was like having an out-of-body experience. I felt like I floated across the room, pulled by a supernatural tractor beam. Must. Save. DeeDee.

  She was kissing a baby Larry.

  Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh. Aaaaaaaaaaaar. Uuuuuuuuuuhhhh.

  She didn't think twice about the moaning, probably because the zombies were always moaning. I tugged her sleeve, but she was too busy with the babies to notice. “You guys are safe now. We'll feed you. You'll grow up big and strong. Then daddy will take you back home, okay? I love you little guys so much!” She snuggled a couple of them like they were babies. Real babies.

  Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh. Aaaaaaaaaaaar. Uuuuuuuuuuhhhh.

  The zombies moaned louder. They seemed agitated. We didn't have time to waste.

  I grabbed her and shook her. In the moment, it was all I could think to do.

  “What are you do—” she protested.

  Until she saw what I saw. Containment collars scattered on the linoleum. Eleven hungry, restraint-free zombies zoned in us like senior citizens zone in on a free lunch buffet at a riverboat casino. They bared their rotten teeth and growled.

  Chapter 20

  DeeDee pushed me into the chip rack and ran.

  She ran! She left MEEEEEE!

  Sure, she saved me from an acid whip, and her escape looked like a hero montage cut straight out of a Kung Fu movie, all tucks and rolls and jumps, but still. As I lay there in a pile of chip bags, too terrified to move, she went to the counter and hit the control console. A red light flashed and metal storm shutters slid slowly down over the front of the store.

  “What are you doing?” I squeaked. “We're trapped!”

  “So are they,” she said. “Standard zombie containment protocol. Didn't you read the employee manual?”

  Um, no. No I didn't, thank you very much. It tried to bite me!

  “Shouldn't we be on the other side of the metal shutters?” Did standard containment protocol include instructions on how we were supposed to get out of here alive?

  “We can't leave the baby Larries alone, and we can't let a single zombie out of here. It'd literally start the zombie apocalypse,” DeeDee said, calm and cazh as usual. “We have to risk our lives to save the world. I can't think of a nobler cause to die for than that.”

  Wait. What? Die? THAT WAS THE PLAN??

  Vlurp. My stomach clenched so tight, bile lapped my tonsils. Great. Just great. If she wasn't planning to get out of here alive, we were both doomed. I screamed, “Letting zombies eat me is not in my job description!”

  “Relax. We'll be fine. Probably,” DeeDee yelled as she ran down the candy aisle. “Here's the plan. We need to stop the acid whips, so first we cut the last baby Larry off the stalk. Then we contain zombies.”

  Speaking of whips. One fwapped through the zombies and sent them flying like bowling pins. Then it came for me. I ducked.

  Angel eight ball rolled into my foot. “If it's any consolation, if you get bit, only your body will be here, performing menial tasks for your corporate masters. For free. Until you rot. Wow. When you say that out loud, there are some real hard truths about end stage capitalism and the soul-sucking nature of work in there.”

  “What do you want?” I snipped.

  “Relax. I'm cheering you up! Anyway, your soul will move on. I know for a fact that short fat guy is up here getting a sweet tan on Paradise Beach right now.” His arrow pointed to the middle-aged zombie rolling around on the floor underneath the Perdition Peach slushy machine.

  “Great. How comforting.”

  “It is. Sort of.” Angel eight ball rolled away.

  The zombies stood up and stumbled forward, sniffing the air, following the scent of the delicious hot Lloyd steak before them. I crawled away, but pretty soon I was up against the beer cave door. I was about to U-turn into the candy aisle to hide like an epic chicken shit when DeeDee hopped over me, yanked open the weapons safe, and started throwing stuff out. “Lloyd, cover me!”

  The zombies moaned over the plunk plunk of falling gourds, tasers, and other weird stuff hitting the floor as DeeDee dug through the packed cabinet. A bumpy purple gourd rolled into a zombie's foot. He stepped on it, tripped, and landed flat on his back, buying us a few more precious seconds. An acid whip to the back knocked a few of them over again.

  Then a single glazed doughnut with pink frosting and sprinkles fell out of the safe, onto the floor between me and the zombies.

  A doughnut. Of course! It all clicked. I'd watched one of these crunch a giant hell spider down to nothing. The day is saved.

  I scrambled across the floor and grabbed it. It was in a thick, clear plastic clamshell package. I pulled and pried, but the plastic didn't budge. Seriously? Zombies are closing in and I can't save the day because of a plastic clamshell? These stupid things are impossible to open!

  A red hot rage burbled up in me. I hit that thing against the floor over and over again but the damn thing wouldn't crack. Fwap! I jumped out of the way as an acid whip crunched do
wn, then snapped back. Oh. It split the plastic, and the doughnut rolled out. Thanks Larry!

  It landed icing side down. Well. Zombies won't mind.

  I scooped up as much icing and sprinkles as I could and rubbed them back on the dough. Which would probably seem stupid to an outsider, but hey. I didn't know what part of the doughnut worked the magic. Did you?

  I broke off a piece of doughnut and aimed at a zombie lying on its back in the goop, moaning. I shot that crumb like Lebron James right into his mouth. It went right in. Hazzah! NBA Live pays off again! My confidence swelled. I broke off another piece, and another and tossed one into every open zombie mouth. Sure. Some Larry whips knocked a few out of the way. And yes, I missed and hit a few cheeks, but I kept going until that doughnut was nothing but crumbs. It wasn't that hard because zombie mouths were always open. Always. Seriously. They never stopped groaning.

  DeeDee rummaged around in the cabinet, but she didn't have to worry. I had totally saved the day. I couldn't wait to see the look on her face.

  Okay.

  Any second now.

  The zombies shuffled and moaned. Mouths still agape, closing in.

  Wait for it! Here we go. Anytime guys.

  Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh. Aaaaaaaaaaaar. Uuuuuuuuuuhhhh.

  My heart kicked my ribs. Why wasn't it working? Where was the magic doughnut portal that was gonna crunch these guys down into jewelry?

  Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh. Aaaaaaaaaaaar. Uuuuuuuuuuhhhh.

  They kept on shuffling. No portal opened. Oh crap. Was the doughnut expired or something?

  Angel eight ball rolled out from under a bag of Conn's wavy. “Don't quote me on this, but I think the doughnut only works if you swallow it.”

  “But they did!”

  “They didn't swallow. These guys are carnivores. Look.”

  An arrow pointed to a smattering of doughnut bits—whole, dry, unchewed—accumulating on the floor around the zombies' feet. I got them in their mouths all right, but those bits had dropped right on out, unchewed. I watched as one fell right out of a zombie mouth as it moaned.

  Aaaaaaaaaaaar. Uuuuuuuuuuhhhh.

  All hope drained out of me, leaving only dark, ice cold fear. And a hot flame of determination. I was not gonna die by zombie. No way.

  “Got it!” DeeDee yelled.

  Great. Just in time. I held out my hand, waiting for DeeDee to hand me a crossbow, gun, chainsaw, baseball bat or some other manner of appropriately brain-neutralizing zombie slayer. She handed me a long black stick with some sort of grabber on the end. “What the hell is this?”

  “If one comes at you, loop the end around his neck and hold him until I can get the collar back on.”

  “Are you kidding?” How was I gonna kick undead ass with this? I had trained for this. Left 4 Dead. Resident Evil. Call of Duty Black Ops zombie mode. Last of Us. Plants vs Zombies. Walking Dead. I had played—and beaten—them ALL. I was an expert level zombie killer. Well. Digitally. And not once did I use the same grabber my Great Aunt Edna used to snatch cans of green beans off the top shelf in the pantry as a weapon.

  And we needed weapons. Stat. One zombie had finally managed to run the gauntlet of gourds, acid whips, and zombies splayed on the floor, stuck in goop, wiggling and trying to get up. He lunged at us. DeeDee karate kicked him in the ribs. He stumbled and thunked face first into the B in the icy font spelling out “Beer Cave.”

  “Standard zombie rules apply. A shot to the brain will kill them, but it's the very last resort,” she said. “We're contractually obligated to attempt containment first. They're too rare and valuable to destroy. So brain shot is emergency only. Got it?”

  “WHAT?” Did you hear that? Did she just tell me we weren't allowed to kill the zombies?

  “Do you understand the plan?”

  “Do you understand? Hello! Zombies!”

  “I'll deal with Larry and fix the collars, you distract these guys. Buy me some time. Now, go!” DeeDee rolled, silent and fast like a ninja, right past the pack of moaning zombies. They didn't give her so much as a second sniff as she slid across the linoleum, scooping up containment collars and garden knives. Maybe because Big Larry was kicking undead ass. The movement was involuntary, but dude. Those whips spun those zombies around like records and that goop was like super glue.

  I took a deep breath. Okay. The plan. Distract them. Buy DeeDee time so she could ultimately save the day. Which means I have to lure them away from her. I had to be the bait. The delicious, fat, slow moving overweight bait. Shit. I didn't like this plan. Not one bit. But, I was the dumb one in the room, and even I was smart enough to know I should defer to the smart person's plan.

  Okay then. Let's do this.

  Some of the zombies had picked up on DeeDee's scent. Gulp. It was now or never. I yelled, “Hey. Death breath. Over here!”

  That snapped them to. They all turned toward the sound of my voice. “Yeah. You. Over here. Come this way!”

  And boom. The zombies shuffled toward me. Kind of. These guys definitely weren't Type A, goal oriented guys on a straight path to success. They took the long way to their destination. But it was good enough. If I could lure them to the other side of the store and keep them together, that should buy DeeDee enough time.

  Aaaaaaaaaaaar. Uuuuuuuuuuhhhh.

  Due to lack of any other inspiration under pressure, I started singing those stupid Zebra songs Kevin had lasered into my brain, to keep the zombies in step behind me. DeeDee chuckled and asked me if she could request Dio. Then I ran. Slowly, to keep the zombies close enough that they wanted to follow me, but far enough out of reach to be safe. Man. It was tough, because every bit of me wanted to Jesse Owens my fat ass right out of the store and never look back.

  The ghouls moaned and shuffled behind me. I skipped and hummed down the row of glass cooler doors. Bubby's TV hung at the very end. Huh. Ding. I had an idea. I filched the remote off the rack as I hummed and skipped by. Geesh. Zebra saves the day. Good thing Kevin is out of it. If he saw this, I'd never hear the end of it.

  Uuuuuuuuuh. Uuuuuuuh.

  The zombies followed me into the last aisle. When they were all in, I flipped on the TV and turned the volume all the way up.

  Uuuuuh?

  They all turned to see. A hillbilly with a bad two-tone mullet pranced across the screen. What the fuck is this? Oh yeah. Tiger King.

  The zombies were transfixed. They couldn't look away. Honestly, neither could I. Talk about a train wreck! But I had bigger fish to fry, like waltzing over to help DeeDee with those containment collars. Because my zombie distraction was a success. A warm rush of happiness welled in me. Hello! I totes rocked the plan! It wasn't so bad after all. It was easy!

  I turned to go. Shit.

  A swarm of pixies hovered at the end of the aisle, blocking my way. Angel may have been right. That bug spray had really ticked them off because this time, they came at me armed. Each one of them carried a red slushy straw. They pointed them at me like spears and attacked.

  Chapter 21

  You wouldn't think that getting stabbed with the scoop end of a slushy straw would hurt, but dude. You get poked with two dozen of those over and over again and tell me it tickles.

  I swatted those pixies like mosquitoes, but they kept on coming. I waved that stupid grabber around, but nope. Useless. They dove at me, poking and stabbing my face. I swear they were trying to scoop out my eyeballs.

  Darn it. That's it. Mission: Find something to fend off these stupid pixies!

  Thwap. Thwack. A streak of red cut through the air. I jumped out of the way. An acid whip hit the shelf, sending pine tree car air fresheners and bottles of fuel injector cleaner cascading to the floor. The pixies looked away for a second, watching to see where the whip was gonna land next. Ha! My chance! I crouched down and duck walked through the aisle looking for a weapon.

  Angel eight ball was on the bottom shelf, wedged between two bottles of motor oil. “Wow. It really sucks to be you right now.”

  “Ya think?”


  The acid whip crashed down on top of the rack, scattering pixies to the wind and knocking all the Fix-A-Flat to the floor.

  I didn't have much time, so I grabbed the first thing that rolled past my foot. Bacon scented automobile air freshener and odor eliminator. WTF? Who buys this crap? Well. It'll have to do.

  Angel eight ball shook. “Is that poison? Remember, thou shalt not kill! If you commit a mortal sin while I'm your angel, I lose my wings. I will rain fire down on you. Got it? You have no idea how humiliating it is to walk around Heaven.”

  “I don't care.”

  I popped the cap, stood up, and came eye to eye with a patch of blazing red pubes. Blech. No!

  The pixies rose before me in their naked ginger glory. Some of them had ditched the straws. They held a rubber bouncy ball under one arm and a metal jack in their hand. Aw, man. They must have filched those from the toy section. By the looks of it, they'd opened at least a dozen packages, and I know for damn sure they left the wrappers on the floor. “You guys are gonna clean that up!”

  I hit the nozzle and waved the bottle around, coating the pixies in a fine bacon-scented cloud. A few of them coughed and flew away, but the rest held steady as the tiny Ed McMahon tittered and barked, his dinger bopping around for the whole world to see.

  “Come on, man. Put on some pants!” I waved that air freshener around, filling the air with meaty mist.

  Tiny Ed yelled, and the pixies dropped their bouncy balls and jacks and backed away.

  Ha! I win! I BEAT YOU! “That's right. Go on. Get!”

  I decided my best bet was to use the bacon mist to corral them to the front door and shoo them out. I took one step, and my foot landed directly on a bouncy ball. Oof. I nearly fell over. I stopped spraying while I got my balance. And that's when the pixies got me. They flew right into my chest, all of them, all at once, and hit me so hard the wind went out of me. My shoe rolled out from under me—stupid ball!—and my arms flailed as I tried to grab on to something, anything, to keep from falling. I stepped on another rubber ball and another, until I fell straight down on my butt. I landed on a pile of metal jacks. I howled. OMG. That hurt even worse than stepping on a Lego. Even. Worse.