For Want of a Drink pt3

Carbonated maple syrup

That's the only way I can describe it
It felt like heaven on my tongue
I sucked as hard as I could
So eager was I to taste just a little more
Just a little more
More

She stopped moving under me
Stopped struggling against my arms and legs
Her undead body drained into me
And for the first time since she died
She actually seemed dead

I could get no more out of her
I released her and stood up
Or rather tried to
Because I fell right back down

The buildings around me were spinning
Clouds in the sky mixing into a white milkshake
My reality closed down to a small point
And opened up to the heavens
All at once

And I flew
I flew straight up
Until the air was no longer air
Until stars surrounded me
Until I rode the moon like a giant Hippity Hop
Squashing suns and planets with every bounce

I couldn't stop laughing
I couldn't stop vomiting
I was a pinwheel sprinkler of mirth and mist
Then I knew no more

There was something poking me in the back
And my butt
My head hurt
Fuck if it didn't feel like a hangover
I do remember what those are you know

The sun through my eyelids was painful
I tried to sit up
And only succeeded in vomiting on myself again

I was up on top of a warehouse
It's metal roof hot and hard on my naked body
Well shit
Where are my clothes

I stood
I stretched
I wasn't hungry anymore
I felt as nourished as I'd ever been
I felt like a brand new vampire

For Want of a Drink -pt2

Drinking from the dead isn't good
It's one of the things that can kill my kind
For some reason the blood becomes like poison
And no, it's not like the movies
The blood doesn't turn to poison the second someone dies
Any more than mayonnaise turns to poison when you cook it

But the blood (and the mayo for that matter)
Start to go bad from that point on
Rather like milk at the grocers
You could pretty much put an expiration date on a dead person
Refrigeration helps just like you'd think it would

But still

I think about these facts as my stomach growls at me
As my tongue rolls around my mouth
Missing the taste of food
And my eyes watch a walker
Quite apart from the rest of the herd
She doesn't look like she's been dead that long
Or undead
Or whatever the fuck she really is

You could still almost call her pretty
With long blonde hair
Only falling out in a few places
Fine high cheekbones
Still having all her teeth
Her shambling gait rocking her body steadily
Tits bouncing in time with her draggy steps

But then
I didn't want to fuck her
I wanted to feed from her
Surely a small taste wouldn't hurt
Just to see if she was still semi-fresh you understand
I don't normally go around feeding off dead juice bags

But what's normal these days?
Nothing, that's what

I climbed down off the roof
Jumping down the last few feet
To land as softly as I could behind her

She didn't hear me
Like most of them
Her hearing wasn't what it was when she was alive

Her tight jeans made a perfect heart of her asscheeks
At that sight
I actually did feel arousal
But it was quickly squashed by seeing her left hand
Hanging idly at the end of her slightly swinging arm
It held what was left of a human skull in it's fingers

A snack for the road I suppose

Looking around to make sure there were no others around
I moved up behind her
I zeroed in on a mostly clean spot on her neck
Right where the artery should be

Wrapping both arms around her
I took her down to the ground with a soft thud
Holding her tightly with my arms and legs
I sank my teeth into her neck
Tearing at the flesh to get at the artery
Flicking my tongue inside the wound
For an exploratory taste

She groaned along with me
As her flavor washed over me

For Want of a Drink

Gods but I was hungry
Nothing to eat for miles
I could tell
As I'd looked and hunted for scent for days
Just more of these things
All shambling around
Easy to avoid unless I stood still for them

I'm not immortal
Contrary to popular fiction
And while these things couldn't change me to be like them
They could kill me in other ways
Four of my brethren had been torn apart not long ago
They got complacent and sloppy
One fell asleep with some fresh blood on his shirt
And that's all it took

During the day
The shambling rambling walkers had sniffed them out
Maybe it was something that passed for rage
In what was left of their rotted brains
That made them destroy what they couldn't turn or eat
Childishly primitive any way you look at it if you ask me

My stomach woke me from my reverie
Turning and tying itself in a knot
Reminding me how empty it was
Fuck!
I scanned the town streets from my perch
High on top of the old Fire Hall
Nothing

Nothing alive anyways
Lots of dead
And lots of shuffling not quite dead
What the hell was I going to do
I'd start to get weak soon
Then the only way for me to survive
Would be a forced hibernation

I didn't like doing that
Finding a safe place
Usually a grave
(That's how stories start!)
And holing up, literally, for years on end
With the hope that things will be better then

I wasn't feeling sanguine about those possibilities at the moment
Too much death
Not enough life
Maybe other places were different
But I'm so tired of traveling

So like I said
Fuck
What the hell is this lone vampire supposed to do?

Erwin Schrodinger Was a Naughty Boy

"Erwin! Have you seen the cat?"
I try to hide my lie as I reply
"No mom, I have no idea where it's at"
All while waiting to see if the cat will die

Currently the cat is neither alive nor dead
At least according to this thought experiment
Though having actually set up the thing
I'm not sure where the 'thought' part went

The list was short and simple
One cat
One Geiger counter
One bit of radioactive substance
One length of wire
One electromechanical release
One hammer
One nail
One bit of wood
One sealed glass flask of hydrocyanic acid
One sealable steel box

Ok so the list isn't so short
Or so simple
But the whole thing is making me smile
I take a picture with the box and show my dimple

It's been almost an hour
No less no more
In a minute I'll open it up
I'll know the score

I'll lift the heavy lid and then I'll know
Will it be cat - 1 and acid - 0
Oh I can hardly wait
Or will acid be the hero

The cat is alive and dead
My mind is reeling
I might have a fever
I'm losing all feeling
On the edge of knowing
A precipice of thought
Though the cat is the one paying
For whatever the result has wrought

"Erwin! Did you put the cat in that box AGAIN?"
Oh crap, good thing the timers almost run out
"DING!" The bell jingles
I open the heavy lid to see who won this bout

And my face is laid open
By the cat on it's way by
Just as the geiger counter jumps
Letting the hammer fly

I let go the lid in the nick of time
Muffling the sound of the glass shattering
Keeping the poisonous gas inside
I wrap a rag on my bleeding cheek not looking forward to mother's nattering

Because for about the tenth time
I've done this experiment on her cat
Even though I've promised I'd stop
Leaving my research right where it is at

With the knowing that the cat is safer for me
When it's in the box unable to use it's claws on my head
Nice and safe or not
And both jolly alive and stiff as a board dead

Father's Day Education

"Happy Father's Day!"

My kids exploded into the bedroom
Marching in time with one another
The first carried a tray of 'breakfast'
Consisting of burned toast
With ironically unmelted butter
Some questionable looking eggs
And some hopefully safe orange juice

The tray arrived without incident to my side
On top of the old quilt

The other two kids carried a box
In large Sharpie marker on the side
It said "DAD"

"Good morning my chipchunks"
I say with a smile
"What's in the box?"

"You have to guess"
They all say
More or less in unison

I poke at my breakfast
And sip my orange juice
Pondering the enigma of the box

What could it conceal?

I ask a series of questions
And get some answers in return

"Is it alive?"

They all look at each other and giggle
"Maybe!"

"Is it furry or scaly or slimy?"

My youngest answers
"It's furry, mostly"

"Is it a cat?"

They just giggle

"Is it Schrodinger's cat?"

They look confused

"No daddy, it's for you!"

And my oldest pulls the top off the box
Exposing what is inside to my sight

I recoil in mock horror
Throwing my hands up to ward off the evil

It was Ming
Our old cat
Looking up at me with annoyed eyes
And a red bow around his neck

With a little 'mew'
He jumped out and looked around
I laughed
The kids laughed

Ming took an interest in my buttered toast
Thereby relieving me of the duty of eating it myself

I decide that first off for the day
While I have everyone here
I'm going to explain the whole deal
That happens when you put a cat in a box
With a decaying radioactive isotope

Oh the things that they don't teach in today's schools

Again With Nanor

Crazy
But that's how it goes
Now where do I know that from
Some catchy song I suppose

I hum a tune that might go with it
As I get back to my work
Sawing at the left arm
Severing tendons where they lurk

Tough little buggers
I think as I reach for the diagonal cutters
"Oh god no, please...."
The thing inside the bag mutters

I grab my hammer
And give it a few more whacks
Until no more sound comes out
I can't deal with a guilt that attacks

The good news is
The freezer is almost full
Almost all stocked up
Sealed in bags and artificially cool

A few final stokes of the cleaver
Through the meat
Into my imported butcher block
Then into individual freezer bags oh so neat

Now it's time to pull a Dexter
The black trash bags come out
One part whomever this is
Plus one part rocking out

It's to weight it down
And keep it down
In the deepest part of this great lake
With the sand and muck so brown

Never to see the light of day again
At least until I myself am dead
Then they can bring up all the parts they want
They're welcome to prosecute my corpse instead

With a final twist and tie
I think I'm done
Done with this messy necessary business
Make no mistake, I don't find this fun

My God requires human sacrifice
And I've found he doesn't mind frozen
So when tourist season hits I stock up
So as to use them as I need them

Or rather as He needs them
Who is this God that I ascribe to?
How could you have forgotten
He of the mighty human gumbo stew

Of all the gods I could serial kill for
Of all the gods I could burn human flesh for
Of all the gods I could commit this crime for

I had to pick Nanor the Fussed!

No End Destination

Three rails a-gleaming
Laid out in front of me
As far as the eye can see

Electrified with a ZW
Simple one hundred ten volts
But it's the Amps man
It's what really torques my motor

Made in 1955
Screwed into my Lionel chassis
With my choice of bodies
I chose New York Central grey

My white lightning stripe pointing the way
Illuminated by a small scale headlamp
I'm the terror of Grandpa's train room

Around and around
Chasing my observation car
In a desperate attempt
To get to the station on time

The station that isn't there

Left in the dusty box under the table
The semi scale Rico Station
Will have to wait for another day
Another set of hands
To place it next to the triple rail tracks

Only then will I have some semblance of completion
A place to stop
A place to rest
A place to take on fuel-cargo-people

For my next imaginary run
Around the endless Circle of Ouroboros
That is the Lionel loop
In Grandpa's Train Room