Monthly Archives: February 2016

How the West Was Zombed – Part 5 – Wedding Crashers

Though his heart belongs to fiery redhead Miss Bonnie, Slade just can’t bring himself to say no to his fiance, Sarah “the Widow” Farquhar.  Slade and Sarah head to Highwater to plan a wedding for the evening.  Actually, Sarah does most of the planning.  Slade acts like a depressed hostage.

Meanwhile, a heavily armed and armored train arrives in town.  Despite an argument filled with chest puffery, Slade is unable to get any information out of villainous lawyer Blythe.

Smelly Jack crashes Slade and Sarah’s wedding in a big way, though as it turns out, in a much bigger way than expected…

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Chapter 37           Chapter 38            Chapter 39

Chapter 40          Chapter 41            Chapter 42

Chapter 43          Chapter 44           Chapter 45

Chapter 46         Chapter 47            Chapter 48

Chapter 49        Chapter 50            Chapter 51

Chapter 52        Chapter 53

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 53

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Anabelle and Ophelia helped a very unsteady Sarah into the church.  Reverend Cavanaugh came out to study the bodies.

“You shot them,”  the Reverend said.

“Yup,” Gunther replied.

“And they died?”  the Reverend asked.

“Deader than a doornail,” Gunther said.

“And they just…got up and walked around again?”  the Reverend asked.

“All hungry like,” Gunther said.  “Looking at us like they were fixing to eat us for supper.”

Doc removed the handkerchief he’d been holding up against his scratch.  “Yes.  I even bare the mark of their loathsome desire for human flesh.”

“I think you’ll live,” Gunther said.

“You’re sure they died the first time?” the Reverend asked.

“What?” Gunther asked.

“Perhaps you thought you killed them but you didn’t,” the Reverend said.

“We turned them into Swiss cheese and they still kept coming,” Gunther said.

“They were dead,” Slade said.  “I got Jack right in the heart.  Stopped his ticker cold.”

“Well,” the Reverend said. “The good book tells us that the dead will rise from the grave on judgment day.”

“My word,”  Doc said. “So concerned was I with a scientific explanation that I never once pondered the possibility that there might be a religious connotation at play.  Do you surmise this is the beginning of the end of days, sir?”

“Could be,” the Reverend said.  “But then again, it might not.”

“Shit,” Gunther said.  “You’re about as much help as Doc.”

“Long have I warned my flock that if mankind does not mend its wicked ways, the Lord will have something to say about it,” the Reverned said.  “Look at our town.  Drinking. Gambling. Violence. Rampant fornication. Lewd and lascivious behavior.”

“Sounds like a typical day in Highwater,” Gunther said.

“Could this be the Lord reaching his righteous hand down from up above to extract vengeance from us for our sinful debauchery?”  the Reverend asked.  “I don’t know.  What I do know is that whenever the Lord wants to teach us a lesson, he does not leave us to wonder about it.  If we are truly doomed then there will be a sign that removes all of the guessing from the equation.”

The sound of a massive explosion ended the conversation.  The noise came from the south side of town.  Slade felt a panic wash over him as he instantly worried about a special someone who lived there.

“Bonnie,” he said.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 52

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The bystanders scattered and ran. Townsend and Blake fled to the church, showing zero interest in offering assistance to anyone. Slade, Gunther and Doc opened fire but the Buchanans kept coming. Jack and his boys were riddled with bullet holes but it didn’t matter. They wanted one thing and one thing alone.

“BRR…AINS!”

Not that they were that bright before, but their vocabulary was now whittled down to one word – “brains.” They had a hunger for sweet, delicious gray matter and nothing was going to stop them from going after it.

“This is some fucked up shit,” Gunther declared as he fired his last shot into Rufus. The old man holstered his gun and drew his knife, preparing to strike whoever dared to attack him first.

“Indeed,” Doc said. “This phenomenon is in direct defiance of every scientific law known to mankind. What is dead should, without exception, continue to stay dead!”

“Any ideas on what to do about it?” Gunther asked.

“Other than keep wounding them and pray for a miraculous intervention, no.”

Sarah wailed uncontrollably. Slade’s left gun had already run out of ammo, so he clutched his bride close with his left hand. With his right hand, he aimed directly at Smelly Jack’s head and landed a shot right between the monster’s eyes. Jack’s body collapsed to the ground.

“THE HEAD!” Slade shouted. “AIM FOR THE HEAD!”

Slade popped upon Rufus’ cranium with another well-placed shot. Gunther used every muscle he had to jam his knife through Buck’s skull.

“Of course!” Doc said. “Even the most rudimentary organisms are unable to function without a brain.”

Doc pressed his pistol right up against Frank’s forehead.

“Right then,” Doc said. “Off to hell with you, my good man.”

Click. Out of ammo.

“Oh bother,” Doc said as Frank pinned him to the ground.

Doc struggled to free himself as a pair of snapping teeth drew closer and closer to his face. It was no use. The creature was stronger than any man Doc had ever encountered.
Frank’s two front teeth scratched across Doc’s right cheek, breaking the skin and drawing blood. Gunther plunged his knife into the back of Frank’s head. Slade rolled Frank’s carcass off of the good doctor and helped him up.

Annabelle, who had been hiding up on the porch, came down.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yes,” Doc said as he wiped the blood off of his face with a handkerchief. “In one brief moment, I saw my entire life flash before my very eyes.”

“Was it scary?” Annabelle asked.

“On the contrary,” Doc said. “I was quite impressed.”

Sarah wept. Her once pristine white dress was now covered with dirt, grime, and even blood spatter.

“All I wanted was a nice wedding,” the bride said just before passing out. Slade caught her before she hit the ground.

“Can anyone tell me what the fuck just happened?” Gunther asked.

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I Got Nothing

Nothing for you today 3.5 readers.

The zombies are finally coming.  And I think the werewolves are about to get rowdy.

It’s getting more difficult as choices have to be made and there is what I want to happen vs. what is logistically possible to happen.

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Chapter 51 – How the West Was Zombed

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“Aw hell,” Gunther said. “Take a walk, boys. Slade won fair and square.”

“I don’t care,” Rufus said, pointing at Jack’s corpse. “That man was my brother. And my cousin. He was my brother-cousin.”

“Who gives a shit?” Gunther asked. “Jack certainly didn’t give one about any of you. Hell, everybody knows he sold out Artie Buchanan’s whereabouts to Wyatt Earp for fifty dollars and a jug of moonshine.”

“That’s a goddamn lie!” Rufus said.

“Yeah,” Frank added. “It was two jugs of moonshine!”

“I got this,” Slade said.

“No you do not,” Gunther said. “Three against one! That’s not fair at all.”

“Get out of here,” Slade said.

Gunther didn’t budge. Doc, on the other hand, hightailed it back to Annabelle.

“What are you doing?” Annabelle asked. “Slade needs you!”

“Oh,” Doc said. “Do you think so?”

“Yes!” Annabelle said. “You taught him everything he knows!”

“Indeed I did,” Doc said. “But you heard the man, my dear. He wishes to bravely face this challenge on his own and who am I to step between a man and his destiny?”

Annabelle shoved Doc. “Get out there!”

Doc returned to the duo. “Ahem,” he said. “Yes, it seems I should very much like to back you up, Mr. Slade.”

“Atta boy Doc,” Gunther said.

“Don’t need it,” Slade said. “Don’t need either of you. Get lost.”

“Nothin’ doin’,” Gunther said. “There’s never been a day that I didn’t have a marshal’s back and I aint about to start now.”

“Yes, well,” Doc said. “I don’t recall ever being officially deputized so, good day gentlemen.”

Doc looked at Annabelle’s disappointed face and stayed put.

“Woman making you feel guilty, huh?” Gunther asked.

“Yes,” Doctor said. “She’s positively vile in the boudoir. I theorize she may be my soulmate.”

The crowd backed off to give the men room. The Buchanans fanned out in a line, each one ready to draw. Slade and his allies did the same. Doc faced Frank. Slade faced Rufus. Gunther faced Buck.

Every man drew and Doc produced his revolvers by flicking his wrists. The ancillary Buchanans weren’t half the gunslinger that Jack was. Slade and Gunther’s opponents were dead on the ground before they could even squeeze off a shot.

Doc’s shot missed its mark but pierced Frank’s hand, forcing him to drop his pistol. Frank and Doc stared each other down.

“Yield, sir,” Doc said.

With blood gushing out of his right hand, Frank eyeballed his gun as it laid on the ground. Doc fired a warning shot at Frank’s feet.

“Yield, sir!”

Frank dove for it. Doc fired and missed.

“Aw fuck this Queensbury rules bullshit,” Gunther said as he pumped a round into Frank before he could get his hands on the gun.

The crowd went wild. Cheers, applause, hoots and hollers.

Annabelle threw herself at Doc. “My hero!”

“Yes indeed,” Doc said. “Well what would this world be if men of impeccable character such of myself did nothing in the face of evil?”

“I told you I didn’t need you,” Slade said.

“I know,” Gunther said. “Maybe some of us need you. Maybe some of us might miss you if you were gone. You ever think of that?”

Slade struck a match and lit his cigar. “Thanks.”

“Holy shit,” Gunther said. “Rainer Slade thanking somebody. I might keel over from the surprise.”

The church door opened a crack. Sarah poked her head out. Relieved to see her groom alive, she rushed out to hug him. Slade removed his smoke to accept a long, passionate kiss.

It was followed by a slap across his face. “Don’t ever do that to me again!” Sarah cried.

With no woman to congratulate him, Gunther approached the bodies. Four men. Motionless. Lying there in pools of their own blood.

Slade rubbed the sore spot on his cheek.

“Are you trying to worry me to death, Rain?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Slade replied.

“You’re going to hang those guns up as soon as we get home and they’re never coming down again!  Do you hear me?”

Slade grunted.

Gunther only had the one eye, but it usually worked well. He worried maybe it was starting to fail him when he saw Jack’s foot twitch.

“No!” Sarah shouted. “No grunts! I want an answer!”

Defeated, Slade hanged his head down. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good,” Sarah said. “And put that cigar out! You know I hate those things.”

Slade sighed and threw his smoke to the ground.

“Don’t you sigh at me,” Sarah said.

“Yes ma’am,” Slade said.

Gunther saw Jack’s foot move again. He was sure of it.

“Hey Doc,” Gunther said.

Doc and Annabelle were indisposed, whispering horrible, horrible things to each other.

Jack’s foot twitched again. People in the crowd began to notice.

“Hey!” Gunther shouted. “Doc!”

“Yes?” Doc joined Gunther.

“You ever see something like that?” Gunther asked.

Doc watched as Jack’s foot shook all over.

“It’s not uncommon,” Doc said. “Before rigor mortis sets in, the muscles have been known to move in a reflexive manner.”

An eerie groan came out of Jack. “Ungghhhhh…”

“That however,” Doc said, “Is most unusual.”

Slade ducked out of his lecture to see what the fuss was all about.

Sarah followed. “Don’t you walk away from me, Rain! I’m not going to be a widow twice in my life! I am not!”

Jack’s entire arm raised up into the air. Then the other one. All the yahoos who had been checking out Jack’s body backed off in terror.

Slade pulled his pistols. “What the…

Unghhhh…gack….ack…

Jack sat up. His eyes had gone blank. He growled and snarled. His jaw chomped up and down.

Rufus moved. Then Buck. Then Frank.

Slade finished his thought. “…fuck.”

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Chapter 50 – How the West Was Zombed

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“Gentlemen, place your bets!”

Over a hundred people came out to watch Slade square off against Smelly Jack. They lined up along both sides of the street, looking for a good spot to watch the fight. Blake saw an opportunity to make some dough. He waved a stack of bills in the air.

“What’s the action?” Townsend asked.

“Jack’s a shoo-in,” Blake said. “But the odds of Slade living through this are a thousand to one!”

Townsend forked over a ten spot. “Put it on Jack.”

“You got it,” Blake said. “Place your bets! Place your bets!”

Blake worked his way through the crowd, accepting money from all the would be gamblers. Slade’s action didn’t get many takers, but there were a few who believed in him enough to stake their money on him.

The impromptu bookie found himself next to Gunther, who stood outside the church next to Doc and Annabelle.

“Place your bets?” Blake asked.

“You best get to steppin’ before I whup your ass,” Gunther said.

“Yes,” Doc said. “Quite right! Have you no decency, sir? Lives are at stake! Shoo! Shoo! Away with you lest I box your ears!”

Blake walked on. Doc followed him until he was out of Gunther’s earshot. The self-described genius tucked a hundred dollars into Blake’s hand.

“All of it on Mr. Buchanan,” Doc said.

“You got it,” Blake said.

“And this never happened, sir.”

Doc turned around to find a displeased Annabelle had followed him.

“I thought you and Slade were friends,” Annabelle said.

“We most assuredly are, my dear,” Doc said. “Thick as thieves you might say. But business is business and if I’m able to turn a profit that would certainly cushion the blow of losing my dear, dear friend.”

“You don’t think Slade will win?” Annabelle asked.

“Oh no,” Doc said. “Not at all. You see, basic principles of mathematics suggest the best course of action is to go with the odds and well, when it comes down to it, Mr. Buchanan has sent more people to their graves than Slade.”

“You have got to be the smartest man alive,” Annabelle said.

“Oh I don’t know about that, my dear,” Doc said. “I’m in the top five, certainly. Right next to Edison, who I consider one of my few intellectual peers.”

Smelly Jack and Slade took their positions, roughly fifty paces from one another. Both men hovered their hands over their hardware.

“ANY LAST WORDS SLADE?” Jack shouted.

“Yup,” Slade said.

Jack and his boys laughed. “Yeah?” Jack said. “What is it?”

Slade pulled the cigar out of his mouth, doused it out with his thumb then tucked it into his pocket to save for later.

“Your mother must be the only woman who ever popped thirty assholes out of her pussy.”

The crowd erupted in a collective gasp, but Jack held it together. He squinted his eyes at Slade. Slade squinted back. Beads of sweat dripped off of Jack’s forehead. Slade’s remained dry.

And then it all happened within seconds. Each man drew at the exact same time. Who shot first? No one may never know. Slade felt the wake of Jack’s bullet as it sailed just inches past his head. Jack, on the other hand, really felt Slade’s bullet as it exploded his chest. Blood spewed from the gaping wound.

The outlaw’s lifeless body hit the ground. The crowd went into an uproar. No one could believe it. Smelly Jack Buchanan, one of the worst criminals in the west, was dead.

Gunther beamed a grin typically reserved for the face of a proud father. He ran out, grabbed Slade’s hand and raised it high in the air. Even Slade flashed a rare smile.

The crowd cheered. A pissed off Blake unleashed a torrent of obscenity over all the money he’d have to pay out to the handful of people who had bet on Slade.

“Are you sore you lost your scratch?” Annabelle said.

“Oh no,” Doc said. “It’s only money, my dear. Easy come, easy go.”

The good doctor joined the duo and shook Slade’s hand. “Bravo, sir! Bravo! I believed in you whole heartedly!”

Frank and Buck Buchanan stood over their leader’s body. Rufus ran his hand over Jack’s face, closing the eyes. The trio stepped forward. A hush silence fell over the crowd.

“This isn’t over, Slade,” Rufus said.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 49

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“What is the meaning of this?!” the Reverend asked.

Jack walked right up to the couple. Slade burned with rage. Sarah held a hand over her nose and mouth to hold back the stench.

“I object on account of this no-good chicken shit yella’ belly has the NERVE to show his face around town and not think I’d have something to say about it.”

The vein in Slade’s forehead looked like it was going to pop any second and spew blood all over.

“Boys,” Gunther said. “You’re in a house of God on a wedding day. This is bad form if you ask me.”

“NOBODY ASKED YOU YA OLD BASTARD!!!” Jack said. “This here is between me and this pussy.”

Sarah trembled. “Rain, what’s going on?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you what’s going on, girly,” Jack said. “You’re about to marry a lily livered son of a bitch that lets Injuns do his fighting for him!”

Slade’s gut instinct told him to gun down Jack and his boys right there. But as Gunther said, he was in a church…on his wedding day.

“Leave,” Slade said with the highest amount of rasp he’d ever produced.

“I’m callin’ you out, Slade!” Jack said.

“Not interested,” Slade replied.

“Oh,” Jack said. “I see how it is. When there isn’t an Injun to hide behind you aren’t so tough. When there’s a fancy lawyer to hide behind you feel free to sucker punch a man and knock his teeth out. Did it make you feel like a real big man when you put my brother-uncle Dave on the end of a rope?”

Slade lost it. “I did and I enjoyed every bit of it,” Slade said. “The way his eyes bugged out of his head while he gasped for air and choked to death, calling out for your slut of a mother while he shit his pants. Funniest thing I ever saw.”

With those words, Sarah saw a new side to Slade, one that startled her.

“MY MA WAS A SAINT!”

Jack hauled his arm back, ready to punch Slade but his boys caught him and held him back.

“Come on,” Rufus said. “Not in here.”

“OUTSIDE!” Jack yelled as he struggled free of his brother-cousins’ grasp. “YOU AND ME! WE’RE GONNA SETTLE THIS SHIT ONCE AND FOR ALL!”

“Can’t wait,” Slade said.

The Buchanan Boys made their exit, slamming the doors behind them. Slade walked down the aisle. Sarah, now openly weeping, grabbed him.

“Rain!” she said. “No!”

Slade hugged his bride close to his chest. He kissed the top of her head then looked in her eyes.

“Listen to me,” Slade said.

“No!” Sarah repeated. “You’re not going out there!”

“Listen,” Slade said. “I’m going to be right back.”

Slade turned and walked out the door. Seeing that the bride was shaking all over, Gunther offered her his arm and helped her to a seat.

“Sorry, Miss Sarah,” Gunther said. “Dueling is unfortunately one of our worst traditions out this way and why, once a situation like this gets uncorked its impossible to put it back in the bottle.”

“But he’s going to die!!!” Sarah said.

“Oh no,” Gunther said. “No, not at all. Your man is the best shot in the West and Smelly Jack couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn even if he launched his bullet with a catapult.

“Really?” Sarah asked.

“Absolutely!” Gunther said. “Now don’t you fret none. I swear to you, your groom is not going to die.”

Ophelia took a seat next to Sarah and offered the bride a shoulder to cry on.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies,” Gunther said. “I’d best go offer my moral support.”

Gunther walked out of the church. Outside, Jack was delivering an insulting speech about Slade to a gathering crowd.

The old man grabbed Slade just before he stepped off the porch.

“Son, you are going to die!”

“Get off me,” Slade said, pushing Gunther’s hand away.

“You are playing right into Jack’s hands,” Gunther said. “Even an inbred piece of shit like Jack Buchanan knows he’ll go down in history as the worst scum of the earth if he guns down a man in a church at his own wedding. So he’s goading you to come outside and throw down and you’re taking the bait like a fat fish.”

“What do you know?” Slade asked. “You always want to run away from everything, you damn coward.”

Ouch. Gunther felt that one. But he didn’t let it stop him. “It’s not cowardly to refuse to die for no good reason! It’s using the brains that the good Lord saw fit to give you!”

Slade walked off. Gunther grabbed him again. “Why do you think Jack brought three of his kinfolk with him? You know those boys don’t play fair. The second you lay Jack out they’ll come at you. Maybe you can get one. Maybe two. But three? Use your head.”

The groom checked out the extraneous Buchanans as they worked the crowd, drumming up cheers for Jack.  All three of them were armed.

“Do you even see this is your chance, boy?” Gunther asked.

“What?” Slade asked.

“Run,” Gunther said. “Get on your horse and get the hell out of here. Shit, grab Miss Bonnie on the way out of town. Go somewhere, anywhere and start a new life with the woman you’re obviously pining for and then after a month, write a letter to Miss Sarah and tell her you’re sorry but you were scared and you couldn’t bare to saddle her with the burden of being the wife of a man who runs away from a fight.”

“I’m not scared,” Slade said.

“You should be,” Gunther said.

“I’d never tell anyone if I was,” Slade said.

“It’s just words,” Gunther said. “They don’t mean anything.”

Slade gritted his teeth. “They…mean…everything.”
“God damn it, boy,” Gunther said. “The only person a man ever needs to seek approval from is the one staring back at him in the mirror. Who gives a shit what anyone else has to say?”

“I DO!” Slade shouted. It was the first time Gunther had ever heard his ex-boss raise his voice.

“I do,” Slade repeated.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 48

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With Reverend Cavanaugh between them, Slade and Sarah faced one another. Sarah gazed longingly at her man. Slade did his best to appear interested but in his mind he was mapping out the best possible escape route as if he were about to rob a bank and make a run for it.

“Dearly beloved,” the Reverend said. “We gather today to join this man, Rainier Slade and this woman, Sarah Farquhar in the bonds of holy matrimony.”

The Reverend opened up his bible, peeped at a card with some notes scribbled on it, then carried on. “For as Enoch said unto Elijah on the road to Damascus, ‘There is surely no act more pleasing to our righteous God than for a man to lie with the same woman day after day, month after month, year after year, decade after decade, until the end of time comes and the glorious rapture returns all who are pure to their much deserved glory.”

In the pews, Doc swilled back his medicine.

“Gimmie some of that,” Annabelle whispered. “I didn’t know this was going to be so preachy.”  She took a big gulp then handed the bottle back to Doc.

“And ye, it must be known to all,” the Reverend said. “That marriage is truly the noblest of institutions…”

“My Mavis used to say anyone who wants to get married should be in an institution,” Gunther whispered to Ophelia. She frowned and shook her head disapprovingly.

“In fact, it was Aaron who said unto Jeremiah who in turn, spread the message to the Sumerians, ‘When a man lies with a woman not his wife, or a woman lies with a man not her husband it is considered an egregious sin in the eyes of our Lord and don’t even get me started on when two men or two women lie with one another…”

Blake and Townsend sat in the back, mostly to trade snide comments about Slade but also in the hopes of free eats.

“You told me there would be sandwiches,” Blake said.

“I don’t know,” Townsend said. “Every wedding I been to they usually put out a little something. Usually not until after the ceremony though.”

“Shit,” Blake said. “I bet Slade’s too cheap to shell out for sandwiches.”

Townsend started a thought. “Well if he’s half a good a host as he was a marshal…”

Blake finished it for him. “…I’ll starve to death.”

The Reverend kept preaching away. “I’ve had the good fortune to perform many wedding ceremonies in my day and the one piece of advice I never fail to offer to a couple is this. ‘Be true to one another.’”

Slade audibly gulped.

“Yes, ” the Reverend said. “Husbands and wives must be honest with one another at all times for a marriage built upon a foundation of lies will never provide a happy home but rather, serve as a sanctuary for the devil.”

Slade’s heart beat faster.

“No matter how painful it may be for a couple to share their deepest, darkest secrets with each other, they MUST do so, for even the smallest, most seemingly insignificant fib is still a falsehood with the potential to boil over into tremendous sorrow.”

Shit,” Slade thought. “If this is going to piss off God maybe I HAVE to say something.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Reverend said. “It is my understanding that the couple has written some vows that they wish to share with each other.”

We have?” Rain thought.

“Sarah,” the Reverend said.

Sarah took Slade’s hands into hers. “Rain, all my life my choices have been made for me. First by my father, then by Josiah. In effect, I’ve never had a choice about anything at all until today. I choose you because I love you. When you hold me I feel safe. All my cares wash away and it is as if you and I are the only two people left in the world…”

No one told me I was suppose to say anything,” Slade thought.

“…and should I die tomorrow,” Sarah continued. “My life will be complete, for having known the joy of being your wife. I vow to spend all my days thinking of new ways to make you as happy as you have made me.”

Annabelle was so touched she cried. Doc took another swig of his Cure-All then handed it to his new love interest.

“It will calm your menstruations, my dear,” he whispered.

Slade may have been madly in love with Miss Bonnie, but as far as he was concerned, what Sarah had just said was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. God would have to be disappointed with his lack of honesty.

Sarah looked at her groom with big brown eyes.

Shit,” Slade said. “When she was babbling away on the ride in. That’s probably when she said to have something to say.  Damn it.

The guests grew silent. Slade coughed.

“You’re special,” Slade said.

Slade looked around. Everyone waited for more.

“And pretty,” Slade said.

People were still waiting. What did they want?

“And I promise to be a good husband and wipe the shit off my boots before I come in the house.”

Silence. Sarah cried tears of joy. Even Gunther had a little moisture in his good eye.

“That was beautiful,” the old man said.

“Such lovely words,” the Reverend said. “Before we carry on, I ask now, if any one should object to this union, I bid you to speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The church doors swung open, a gust of wind blew in and the whole room got a whole lot…smellier.

Smelly Jack stomped down the aisle with his brother-cousins behind him.

“I OBJECT!!!”

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#31ZombieAuthors – Day 26 Interview – Rhiannon Frater

#31ZombieAuthors – what a blast that was. Well, the interviews were great anyway. As for East Randomtown, we’ll be picking up zombie parts forever.

On Day 26 I interviewed Rhiannon Frater, who writes about a zombified future and also – VAMPIRES! BLEAH!

Check it out.

Bookshelf Battle

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By: Alien Jones, Special Guest Interviewer

Greetings 3.5 human readers.

The Esteemed Brainy One here, filling in for Bookshelf Q. Battler as he recovers from his trial by zombie combat.

Today’s guest is Rhiannon Frater, author of such zombified books as the As the World Dies Trilogy and The Last Bastion series.

A prolific author, her works also transcend the Young Adult, Vampire, and Supernatural genres.

A Texan through and through, Frater’s many accolades include a starred review from Publisher’s Weekly for As the World Dies. Further, The Last Bastion of the Living was declared the Number One Zombie Release of 2012 by Explorations Fantasy Blog and the Number One Zombie Novel of the Decade by the B&N Book Blog.

When she’s not busy writing, other past times include sci-fi and horror shows…

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Ronda Rousey would love to play Samus in a Metroid movie

Ronda Rousey in a Metroid movie?! Take all my money!!!

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Movies on EW.com

Ronda Rousey would love to play Samus in a Metroid movie

Ronda Rousey?s film career is burgeoning. She?s already playing the Patrick Swayze-inspired leadcharacter in the upcomingRoad Housereboot. But…

Published on February 22, 2016 at 08:12PM

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Read more: http://www.ew.com/article/2016/02/22/ronda-rousey-samus-aran?xid=IFT-Section

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