Supper Time

I wrote this for Christopher Grant’s invitation only, zombie site, “Eaten Alive”. It was well received, considering it’s my one and only attempt at a zombie story… WARNING: it’s a tad naughty…!
 
SUPPER TIME by Col Bury
 
Things began to look a bit grim the day me cock fell off.
 
I knew my festered state made it likely that this kinda thing would happen, having lost an ear one particularly windy night. But fuck me, please, not my old purple-headed warrior for pity’s sake! To be fair, I’m kinda twirling you saying, ‘purple’, cos it’s been edging toward greeny-brown recently. But, hey, a cock’s a cock, and mine was a belter, even if I do say so me-self. And things just ain’t the same without it.
 
Am supposing you may wanna hear how it happened. Well, okay, then.
 
Me an’ a few friends were scouring the streets for fresh flesh, when we sees this tasty piece of stuff running across the road, screaming. Like flies round shit, we’re onto her. But she’s fast, and makes it into this decrepit looking barn.
 
I admit, we just, stereotypically, bang on the locked wooden door, all wide-eyed, grunting, groaning and drooling. Pathetic really, looking back. Then, in the moonlight, this madman steams round the corner and starts swinging a fuckin’ samurai sword. Before I could even say, “Supper time,” there’s black blood everywhere, an’ two of me buddies’ heads are rolling past me on the floor. It was quite a shock.
 
This maniac goes through us like there’s no tomorrow. He’s bang out of order, in my humble opinion. So, it’s just me an’ Gwendolyn left. I sees him swinging for her, as his smirking bitch peers down from the barn’s window.
 
I’m thinking, “If I can’t have your bird, then you’re not havin’ mine.” So I jumps in front of Gwendolyn. That’s when the sword hits me square in the dick. It wasn’t that painful, but I sensed summat was wrong when I felt a gush running down me leg. Yep, me cock was hanging by a bloody thread.
 
Anyway, the fucker’s still swinging and I ducks down an’ he’s off balance. Bingo! We’re onto him like hyenas on a carcass. As we tears into each sinew, I looks at the bitch upstairs. She ain’t smirking now. But I am, as I chews an eyeball until it pops.
 
Now, I knows how Gwendolyn likes a bit a cock, but just as she goes to bite this guy’s, I shout, “NO!”
 
Being the lady that she is, Gwendolyn recoils an’ leaves it for me, and I uses the sword to do the necessary.
 
I’m pretty pleased with Gwendolyn really, cos she knows I does the dirt on her with some of the other ladies, and she could ‘ve got me back there an’ then. But I did save her death, didn’t I?
 
Okay, now, Gwendolyn’s no embroiderer, but she’s better than me cos I’m a bloke. So later on, we searches the many empty houses around these parts and finally finds a needle an’ cotton. It’s fair to say, the maniac’s cock wasn’t exactly sufficient to replace mine, but, like I says, a cock’s a cock. An’ at least this one was a bit of a looker – all pink an’ new looking. Result! I feels like a man again.
 
Or so I thought.
 
The fact that Gwendolyn sowed it on upside-fookin-down hasn’t affected our relationship too much. But she smirks at me now an’ then, which kinda pisses me off a bit. The bitch.

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