Goodbye, Cyan. The Death of a Bong

Looking down the barrel of a bong

It was a drizzly night in the deep south. The aftermath of Hurricane Katrina was still drowning the country's hope for the people of New Orleans. This old Zombie was doing a bit of surviving himself. My Cannabis supply had run short and I was having trouble getting a potent replacement.

Most of the dealers in the area were pushing dirt weed, aka: Stress, filled with sticks and seeds. That wasn't going to help me. I needed buds that twinkled like diamonds in order to control my undying thirst for human flesh. Luckily, I came across a bearded Bartender, making his way out of a local Hooters. He reeked of the "fine green" and had some for sale.

We hurried with the transaction, made in his 4-door F150, and I discovered that my pipe was missing. Without Zig Zags, the bearded man advised me of a place to get cheap bongs. His buddy owned a local store and always had good deals on various smoking devices. I needed some pretty strong doses, so I took the man on his suggestion.

The "Cheap Cigarette" store was stamped in the dark corner of a decaying mini-mall. I walked into a closet-of-a-store, filled to the brim with cheap merchandise. I was surrounded by toys, model airplanes, sunglasses, shot glasses, knives, pipes, bongs, papers, magnets, kitchen utensils and spam.

"Can I help you?" A squeaky voice spoke, dashed with a thick southern accent.

I turned and saw a short, dwarf-like man behind the counter. He was a lanky fellow with a stiff hunch riding on his back, causing him to stand at a tilt. Despite his painful condition, he remained happy and cheerful, greeting me with a smile.

"I'm in the neighborhood for a bong." I mumbled, my cigar grinding in between my ravenous teeth.

"A water pipe? Sure. I got 'em right 'ere."

The man hobbled over to a bright display case, holding a wide selection of elegant smoking devices. One immediately stood out. She was a blue beauty made of frosted glass, decorated with outlines of naked female angels, dancing up and down. I had to have her.

"How much you want for the blue one?"

"The one with the naked ladies? It's $20 bucks."

"I'll take it."

As he packed up my item, he asked me with a thick southern accent, "What you gonna name 'er?"

"Who?"

"The bong, man. It's bad luck to not name a bong, it's like a boat. You have to have a name for 'er."

I scratched the dying flesh on my bald head with wonderment. I had never named a bong before and became stumped at the idea. With a million names of various women I had met and seen over my many years, I blurted the out the name of a prostitute that gave me directions once.

"How about Cyan?" I asked, looking for the man's approval.

"Cool." He nodded. "Now, take 'er home and try 'er out."

I left the store and I was well on my way to the back alley to take my meds. I filled Cyan with some water I found in a bottle, stuffed the bowl and took my first rip. Within minutes, me and Cyan were friends.

That was in 2005.

Cyan and I had been through a lot together, we'd been tumbling around the great United States for over 5 years and I thought I'd have her forever.

But fate had other plans.

I was recently staying in a shady motel room that had a busted heater which I didn't mind, being UnDead. In the deep of winter, a cold front had covered the town in white snow and my room was a chilling icebox, especially the bathroom. Cyan had just gotten me ready for a good nap and I left her in the freezing bathroom, not thinking of how the cold temperatures would effect her fragile frame.

When I awoke the next morning, I went to the bathroom and picked Cyan up by her long stem/chamber. The glass had partially frozen over and Cyan broke in two. Her long stem/chamber was in my hands with her rounded bottom still stuck to the floor. My precious, little lady had finally fallen apart. I attempted to try and glue her back together but only continued to further her demise.

On that cold winter night, alone and in the dark, I buried Cyan in the woodland area behind the motel. She was wrapped in a towel I had taken from the room and placed in the rich soil of mother Earth.

I know some may think it's silly to be sentimental over a bong, but Cyan kept me stable all these years. She prevented me from going mad with bloodthirsty rage and devouring every human I saw. Technically, Cyan saved millions of lives.

She was a great bong and I'll miss her dearly.

-HSZ

Arizona Shooter Really a Zombie

It was a tragic, tragic scene in Tuscon, Arizona where a young man pulled out a Glock 19 Pistol and killed 6 innocent people.

The Gunman, Jared Loughner, was apprehended by police much to the stun of Loughner's closest friends, who stated that when they heard about the incident, "it just blew my mind", according to a report from TIME magazine.

Loughner took a cab to a Safeway Grocery Store, paid the cab driver and then waited for his change.  He got out of the cab and shot Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords in the head, wounding her but not killing her.  He then turned on the crowd, killing six, random, innocent people.

At first, it seemed that Loughner, though deranged, was probably attacking Giffords because he believed all politicians to be zombies, which they are.  Giffords may have infected Loughner and he went back seeking revenge.

Unfortunately, that theory was debunked when Loughner turned on the crowd of innocent people, which lead me to believe Loughner was, in fact, a zombie himself.

While scienctist, psychologist and other media folk try to claim that Loughner showed signs of schizophrenia, I believe Loughner is really a Zombie.

Loughner was suffering from the first stages of the Zombie Virus and may be well underway to becoming one of the UnDead.  Just take a look at the mug shot of the deranged killer:

See the rotting flesh above the eye?  Clearly a sign that this boy is infected.  Now, I know most of you humans believe that we should just shoot him in the head and stop the virus from spreading further.  I agree as many of you are not prepared for the Zombie Apocalypse.

I know that many will speculate as they try to pry into the mind of this shooter, using that information to, hopefully, find a way to prevent this from happening in the future.

But until that time comes, you're time is running out and you have one choice to make; either lock him up or put old yeller down.



-HSZ

Zombies Force Migration on US Cities

It's happening all across the United States.  More and more people are becoming infected with The Zombie Virus and forcing average humans to flee their homes and seek refuge in other parts of the country.

For ages, the human race has tried to keep a cap on the truth about Zombies.  I am still trying to get government officials to admit that zombies exist, but Uncle Sam keeps his mouth shut about the important stuff.

Recently, a news report related to the "housing market" was released stating that there are cities, in the US, where the population has decreased and continued to decline since 2000.  Places like New Orleans and Flint, Mich., were listed among these cities where the townsfolk have chosen to head for the hills instead of stay in the city.

What the report doesn't tell you is that the main reason for the relocation was because these cities have been plagued by The Zombie Virus.



Many people were told, at first, that is was a serious flu. Remember the Swine Flu?  Turns out, it was just a weak strain of the Zombie Virus.  As more and more people became infected, the cities tried to keep it within the town's borders so not to alert the rest of the country.  These cities used all resources possible, even recruiting construction crews that had city contracts to use their equipment to warn others.

City uses Construction Crews to guide people to safety

Sources have traveled to a few of these "less populated" cities and saw the virus first hand.  Here's a snap shot that one reporter took while walking around downtown:



I don't know about you, but being killed with a toilet brush isn't the way I wanna go out.

The reporter told me of how most of the zombies were just sitting around with signs of some sort.  They were most likely staging a protest at the time the virus hit and infected them all.  That was one of Uncle Sam's dirty tricks to get rid of hippies back in the '60's.

These cities are to be avoided as they soon will be quarantined and unaccessible.  Zombies are taking over, so to those of you out there who believe The Zombie Virus may have hit your town, do what others have done, pack your shit and run!


-HSZ

A Zombie Resolution

Every time you humans reach the welcoming of a new year you tend to reflect on the past year and decide to make a resolution to change something for the better.

The only real resolution I can suggest for the people of this great country is to prepare yourself for the Zombie Apocalypse which Steve Adelmund is currently doing for himself.

But, I, an UnDead Writer, am only seeking one real resolution for myself in 2011, and that is to finally get published.

You may have read some of earlier blogs talking about the complications I've been having with the world of publication.  Now, I've been published in small newspapers and magazines, none of which you've heard of, and even got a couple of awards.

However, I have not been able to leap over that final rotting corpse that blocks me from publication. (You jump hurdles, I jump rotting corpses)

As I have been trapped in this land of sparkly vampires, boy wizards, and girls that wear dragon tattoos, play with fire and kick hornets' nests, there has been no place for a book about drug addicts written by a zombie.  I had interest from one agent, but after I sent him the manuscript, I never heard back from him.

I sent him a "follow up" email to see what he thought, but he never replied.

There may be no place fictional stories about addicts, but there is a place in this publishing world for books about zombies.

Pride, Prejudice and Zombies was a #1 bestseller, although I don't recommend it, and World War Z by Max Brooks was also a #1 bestseller, highly recommend that one, so zombies are starting to make some serious headway in the novel world.  (I'll talk more about zombie books in another blog.)

I am currently working on my first Zombie Novel, mainly inspired from my zombie childhood, and have been hard at work.  I've already got 100 pages down and still running.

I am balancing a few writing projects right now and this year they're all going to be fruitful in some way.  I know a lot of folks out there dream of that big publishing contract in the sky and it's a tough dream to catch, but you've got to get through it.

I wish you all great success and happiness in this upcoming year and hope you'll be back to read more zombies stories and news, right here, from your old pal Hunter.  Thanks for stopping by and Happy New Year.


-HSZ

This year I was looking for Zombie Christmas Stories and even came across a few books, filled with stories of the UnDead during this holiday season.  Even a Zombie Christmas cartoon, not very long but still good.

With all these zombie Christmas Stories I decided to write one of my own:

A Zombie before Christmas

By Hunter S. Zombie


T’was the night before Christmas and on the east side of town
Hunter S. Zombie was drunk and feeling a little down

I hadn’t won a Pulitzer and had no publishing deal
I was running low on weed and needed a tasty meal

As I sat to write a story, that would be, oh, so grand,
I was interrupted by…
A jolly, red, fat man?

“Why so glum?” The short Elf questioned.
“Yer trespassin’.” I said, reaching for my Smith and Wesson.

“I am Santa. “ He said.  "I mean you no harm.”
I cocked my pistol and replied, “I do! Now, leave before I rip your arm.”

He smoked his pipe and laughed, “What troubles you, Hunter?”
I lowered my pistol and sighed, “It’s been over a year and I still don’t have a publisher.”

“With this, I can help.” The happy Santa soothed.
It was then that I smelled his pipe and realized Santa was a cool, old dude.

“Smoke this.” He said, pulling the pipe from his mouth.
“It’s Blueberry Kush and It will keep you from going south.”

At first, I was hesitant, I didn’t want to jump right in.
Mainly because I didn’t know where Santa’s mouth had been.

I pulled the green from his pipe and stuffed it in my own.
With just a few puffs, This zombie was stoned.

“Your fears and worry will disappear.” Santa said.
Smiling with eyes so bloodshot red.

“How does this help me get published?”
I greedily asked.
“It won’t,” He said.
“But in a few minutes, you won’t give a rat’s ass.”

As I felt the herb start to take hold,
I dreamed of putting Santa in a grave, so very dark and so very cold.

“I should eat you, ya’ fat bastard!” I angrily snapped.
“I need an editor or an agent!”
But Santa just laughed.

“Don’t be discouraged, You’re doing your best.
Even Stephen King got a thousand ‘No’s’ before he got a ‘Yes.’”

He smiled at me with cheeks so red.
I snarled and snapped, pumping Santa full of lead.

I pulled the trigger, Till the chamber was empty
But he was still standing, still fat and still happy.

“You can’t kill me, Hunter.” Santa said without need.
“I’ve been UnDead for years, And now I have to leave.

“I must deliver presents for all the good children tonight.”
He turned to take off, but I kept him in sight.

I grabbed his thick coat and shoved him to the floor
“You’re not gypping me, You jezebel whore!”

I took his warm coat, his boots and his hat.
“Welcome to the Hood, Santa. You just got jacked.”

I threw him into the fireplace, and closed the metal gate.
Searing his chestnuts and changing his faith.

Santa bolted like a rocket, flying out the chimney.
“Next time bring a three-book contract when you come to see me!”

I sat back at my desk, Half baked and undead.
With a single thought, roaming in my head,

“If Christmas is a time for giving, Then Santa’s a cheap fuck.”
I put his clothes up on ebay, hoping to make a buck.

So this Christmas, as my manuscript collects dust,
I’ll think of Santa and how I should’ve eaten his guts.


Merry Fuckin’ Christmas!
-HSZ

Is Jesus a Zombie?

I see this a lot  and not just because I'm a zombie.

Practically every Zombie Walk on the planet always has, at least, one Zombie Jesus walking amongst the UnDead.  He staggers with his crown of thorns, limbing and bleeding as he makes his way across the street.

At first, it just seemed like a joke, but I have heard various arguments from zombie fans that Jesus Christ is a Zombie.

Now, Zombie Jesus is as regular as the regular Jesus, even spawning his own holiday (Easter. Get it?) and a website where you can buy Zombie Jesus greeting cards and t-shirts.

Well, I'm here to set the record straight and tell all of you that JESUS IS NOT A ZOMBIE... technically.
Allow me to explain.

By definition, thanks to Dictionary.com, a ZOMBIE is:

a.  the body of a dead person given the semblance of life,but mute and will-less, by a supernatural force, usually for some evil purpose.

When Jesus Christ rose from the dead he didn't start eating people's flesh and brains.  Nor did he fulfill the evil commands of Bela Lugosi at his sugar cane plantation.

The contemporary definition of a Zombie does not completely fit Jesus Christ.  Whenever someone says, "Jesus Christ", you're probably thinking of this guy:

Nice, kind and easy going fella.  He liked to walk on water, preach the word of God and give people fish.  Never, in any testament, does it say that Jesus Christ started eating people.  I won't even get into the whole "blood/wine" business because they ate bread and wine, not flesh and blood, it was a metaphor. That's all.

Jesus Christ rose from the dead, shared a few words, then disappeared to join God in Heaven.  He never ravaged the townsfolk, stuffing their entrails into his decaying mouth.  He showed up, after death, with a couple of angels and said, "Peace be with you." and breathed the Holy Spirit unto his followers. (John 20:19-23)

So, by true definition, Jesus Christ is not a Zombie. Never has been, never will be.  If you are a true zombie fan and know your zombies then you know that Jesus only fits into the zombie genre as a joke and nothing more.


Sorry, kids, but there is no Zombie Jesus.

-HSZ

All Politicians are Zombies

(ever wonder how a black man could be so pale? yep, he's a zombie.)

It's nothing new to the good public that many dead figures are working in our government today, it's one of the main reasons nothing gets done.  While people still choose to believe that these shady folks are just "regular people", believe me, they sold their soul to politics a long time ago.

It stared back with good old Franklin Roosevelt who led the US through the time of The Great Depression and WWII.   The man was forging the country ahead in a time of great peril, during which, he was stricken with "polio" and he secretly hid his condition from the country.

What FDR was really suffering from was the Zombie Virus.  Even with infection, FDR went on to become one of the countries greatest presidents. Not only did FDR live longer, he served so many terms as President that Uncle Sam had to put a limit on it and hide FDR from the public as not to draw suspicion.
Now, any political official that wants a job in any aspect of government must become infected.  The government thinks they have a controlled strain, but it's breaking down.

Just take a look :









So for those of you who battle over which candidate is better for office, it doesn't matter because they're all gonna end up zombies.  You can protest, write letters to the White House, complain until you go hoarse, but it won't do a bit of good.

This is their system and when it collapses they're going to turn on every man, woman and child alive.  Hide your kids, hide your wife and hide your husband 'cuz they eatin' everybody.



-HSZ