Zom Fu – Chapter 40

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The Clan of the Terrifyingly Unnatural Brain Bite cut a horrific swatch through the countryside, looting, plundering, and replenishing their numbers by converting villagers into vile, undead brain addicted beasts. Towards the end of their reign of terror, the young men of one village in particular were forced to stand for inspection.

“Look at yourselves,” Dragonhand said as he walked past a line of captives. “Weeping and cowering like children, completely unaware that I am about to turn you into the best possible version of your miserable selves. Lickspittle, has the sacrifice been made?”

The toady held up a juicy, goo dripping brain. “Yes, oh infinitely wise one. Our warrior, Quon, gave up his thinking meat so that others may revel in the glory of zom fu.”

“Excellent,” Dragonhand said as he snatched up the disgusting gray matter. “Who wants the first bite?”

The hostages appeared perplexed, surprised that their captor would even make such a ghastly suggestion. The fiend held the brain underneath the nose of the first villager, gave him a good whiff, then continued on down the line, making sure each man got a good nose full.

“I admit brains aren’t much to look at,” Dragonhand said. “And they aren’t suitable for those with a discerning palette but I assure you, once you take a bite, you’ll never want anything else.”

One of the villagers broke out into a cold sweat. “I must have it.”

“No,” another man shouted. “It’s mine!”

“That’s my brain!” a third man cried.

Dragonhand tossed the brain up into the air and caught it, as if it were a ball. He did this twice more, before letting it fall to the ground.

The captives looked at the brain, then up at Dragonhand.

“Have at it,” Dragonhand said. “But make sure you all eat a piece so that you may each learn the glories of zom fu.”

“Yes master!” the villagers shouted in unison. One by one, they dove for the brain, pummeling, biting, scratching and stomping each other just to get the slightest bit closer to their snack.

“Lickspittle,” Dragonhand said.

“Yes, oh extraordinarily brilliant one?” the toady asked.

“Don’t forget to kill them all once they’ve eaten,” Dragonhand said. “Make the cuts quick and clean. I don’t want them getting so mangled that they’re useless in a fight.”
“Of course, oh excessively amazing one,” Lickspittle said.

Dragonhand stared off toward the edge of the village, where undead warriors were busily constructed an enormous device. It consisted of a large bucket pulled back and secured to a rope, sitting on a platform with wheels.

“Lickspittle you insignificant pile of monkey vomit,” Dragonhand said.

“You called, my liege?” Lickspittle asked.

Dragonhand walked over to the device. “What is this monstrosity?”

“Do you like it, my ever so manly god on earth?” Lickspittle inquired.

“What is it?” Dragonhand asked.

“It’s a weapon of my own design, oh fantastic one,” Lickspittle said. “I call it, ‘the zombapault.’”

Dragonhand watched as one zombie sat in the bucket, smoothing out the rough parts of the wood with a hand held plane.

“What does it do?” Dragonhand asked.

“I’m glad you asked, oh indubitably handsome one,” Lickspittle said. “You see, by pulling the bucket back as far as it will go, then securing it with a rope, the device becomes capable of…”

Dragonhand lost interest in listening to his toady speak. He drew a knife, cut the rope, and watched as the catapult set the unsuspecting undead warrior hurtling several miles into the air.

“The short version is that I think it will be good for getting our warriors over the Forbidden City’s walls,” Lickspittle said.

“Astounding, Lickspittle,” Dragonhand said. “For once in your pathetic, useless, poor excuse of a life, you have managed to impress me.”

Lickpittle gushed with pride. “Oh, master. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, worm,” Dragonhand said.

“Of course not, master,” Lickspittle replied.

Master and lackey watched the previously launched warrior continue on an upward arc until he started falling down over the horizon.

“Do you think he’ll be ok?” Lickspittle asked.

“Why would I care?” Dragonhand inquired.

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