I remember the night our father murdered our mother; the sound of flesh being pummeled, furniture hitting the wall, her cries of pain – begging God for mercy. My little brother, Jason, and I, huddled silently beneath a blanket, frozen with fear, unable to move – yet feeling secure in each other’s frightened company.
I don’t know when we finally fell asleep. Hell, I don’t know how we fell asleep! Imagine our surprise …no, imagine our horror when Mom entered our bedroom the next morning, to wake us up for school.
I was soo confused that I didn’t know if I was dreaming about a nightmare I’d had. But when I saw my brother’s eyes bulge soo far out of his head I thought they were gonna pop – I knew that we’d heard what we’d heard the night before.
Stranger yet was the chipper mood she seemed to be in. And then there was that blush in her cheeks. Dead people were not supposed to look so happy. Dead people were not supposed to look so … alive!
Me and Jay tiptoed around the house for the next few weeks or so, not knowing what to expect; unsure who was going to get killed next – only to be brought back from the dead.
* * *
Only seven and eight years old, Jay Jay and me soon put the horrible memory of that night behind us, and got used to our new zombie mom. As far as we were concerned, life – for lack of a better word – returned to normal. Until a few months later, that is. That’s when we began to notice some changes to Mom’s personality; in her behavior.
She would go from giggling to sobbing quicker than it took Superman to save Lois Lane from a silly dilemma. At times like these, Jason and me were prepared to flee at the drop of a hat.
Her appetite changed dramatically too. I mean, who craves pickles, chocolate, and cheese popcorn – at the same time?!?!
At least she wasn’t longing for our precious little brains. Yet. But don’t think for a second that we didn’t see the gleam in her eyes whenever she looked at us, because we did. We seen it.
* * *
When the swelling and the bloating started to show, we knew the end was near. We knew that whatever sorcery was keeping her … undead, had finally run its course; that Death was coming to take Mom away from us forever this time.
That our dad seemed excited about this only served to confirm our suspicions. The basturd [sic].
* * *
Jay and me, we were raised on Alfred Hitchcock, the Son of Svenghoulie; Jaws and the Night of the Living Dead. We knew the Rules; we respected the Rules; we lived the Rules: avoid the birds, run from zombies, and stay out of the fucking water!
As brothers, there were things we didn’t even have to talk about – we were as close to telepathic as you could get, without actually being telepathic. The slightest nod, a barely raised eyebrow, a simple look spoke volumes.
* * *
Nine months after Dad’s vicious attack on Mom, our little sister, Laura, was born. Our family was never quite the same after that.
* * *
As we got older, Jason and me, we realized we were right all along, and Laura was indeed undead proof that zombies can have zombie babies …..
The End?
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