"Mom, please get me a pet zombie for my fifteen birthday," said Billy.
"No! Do you wanna wake up and find your brains gone?"
"The ones Zip-Mart sells ainít like that," Billy said.
Mom bought one for his birthday. Calling it Skip, Billy taught it to roll over, beg, fetch Frisbees. One night, Skip jumped into Billyís bed and whispered, "Iím really a girl zombie. I can make you feel good all over. Wanna see?"
When Billy didnít come to breakfast, Mom hollered, "Wake up. Youíre gonna be late for school." When he didnít respond, she checked his room. Blood and brains were smeared all over his pillow.
"I told you zombies eat human brains! How am I supposta get these stains outta your pillow case?"
The same thing happened to 250,839 teens that night.
Parents were dismayed until they realized having a big wad of life insurance money was far better than having a disobedient, insolent, slob of a teenager, who destroyed domestic tranquility.
Parents bought, sold, traded pet zombies at an astonishing rate. Soon Americaís teenagers became extinct.
With no more American teenage brains left to munch, pet zombies headed for the ocean, walked into the waves, and disappeared. Because they werenít taught geography, they didnít know Canada and Mexico existed and were full of unruly teens with ripe, tasty brains.
Thousands of Canadian and Mexican parents have rented fishing boats and are desperately dragging nets through the ocean.
submitted at 4:32am
16 May 2009
Michael's stories have been published by 107 magazines and 30 anthologies.