Living with a Zombie

As you have no doubt read my roommate is turning into a Zombie.

This is the best the best news I have ever heard.

I am tempted to take violent revenge for the plague of mess with a sharpened shovel to the neck. But no, I need his rent money. So what does one do with a zombie roommate?

First thing, you buy a goat. Then you make mob connections. The goat will tie over the carnal urges of a zombie by providing brains and flesh until can a reliable food source found. The goal is to make the zombie think of you as a provider of food not food itself. He can not see you bleed. You can have no open wounds. You are the food giver and god to the super strong fleshing machine.

This is not like a dog, where you forget the puppy food and feed it in the morning. With a zombie you wake up at 1:17 AM with your best friend nibbling on your pelvic bone. What is needed is a steady supply of fresh man flesh.

That is where the mob connections come in to play. There is, according to the movies, an
Endless supply of dead Mafioso, so there is a need for waste removal. Also according to the movies zombies have an insatiable appetite so this would indeed be a perfect pairing. Zombies eat bone and all these days, so they leave nearly no forensic evidence just a few bone particles floating in the sewer system.

My zombie roommate is happy because he eats the dead.

The Mob is happy because their dead disappear without a trace.

I am happy because my roommate is still paying rent.

Actually I could turn him into a cash cow. Once word gets out that I have a zombie that eats dead mobsters the demand would be unbelievable. I could take all expense paid trips to Paris, Madrid, Budapest, and all the great cities of the world. I could do this with my roommate (who is great, even as a zombie) making money hand over fist. Two young guys out in the world. Partying until dawn. There would be the draw back of literally not being able go out during the day, but the money would be great, the perks ridiculous.

Air travel might be a little tricky. After a couple hours my zombie roommate might get restless. He would grab the token crying baby, crack its neck and start sucking out the spinal fluid like the head of a crayfish. The mothers’ screams haunting the cabin until he attacks her, bites into her engorged breast, spraying milk and blood (Milk-blood) over the poor stewardess trying to help.

A side from that is should be fun.

Zombies, the key to a jet set lifestyle.

K.Tuttle