Road Trip

(Short Story | Humor, Horror)

DESCRIPTION:
Shan and his clearly eccentric, perhaps crazy, neighbor Mr. Parker head out on a road trip to kill someone Mr. Parker believes to be a zombie…

EXCERPT:
MR. PARKER WEILDED the remote control like a three-fifty-seven magnum, taking careful aim at Pat Sajak’s temple with one eye closed, savoring the moment, rubbing the buttons with dying fingers, watching the imaginary hammer pull back. “Bang!” he shouted. Goodbye Pat Sajak. Goodbye Vanna. They would be back though, rising from the grave in just sixty-three channels. But for now, goodbye Wheel of Forture; Hello General Hospital. “Bang!” he shouted again.

As the video faded in a voice said, “—for staying with us today and not channel-surfing. And now back to today’s topic ‘Love from beyond the grave!’ Our third guest is Mr. James Bullock. Welcome Mr. Bullock.”

Parker lifted a gnarled finger from the CHANNEL UP button and struggled to lean slowly forward for a better view of the TV. The burgundy vinyl imitation Lay-Z-Boy creaked as he shifted his weight. He squinted terribly, crinkling his entire sagging face and rubbed the white scruff on his neck with the back of his hand.

Eduardo, the shows host, holding a microphone and wearing an exquisitely tailored suit, said, “Mr. Bullock. let me get this straight. You were on a business trip to Jamaica when your chartered plane crashed into the ocean because of foul weather. Your body washed up on a beach several days later and since your wife didn’t answer any of the letters from the Jamaican authorities you were buried on the island. Then you woke up in a coffin and dug your way out of the shallow grave to find out you had been pronounced dead and your wife didn’t even care enough to attend the funeral. Tell us your story Mr. Bullock.”

The TV camera angle swung to show an instantly forgettable chubby man with male pattern baldness and socks that fell down exposing bone-white shins. He filled the wide chair like an incorrect piece in a jigsaw puzzle, bending and shifting but never achieving quite the right fit.

“Zombie!” the old man said from his recliner.

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