She: “Help!”

He: “With what?”

She: “I need to find something about David!”

He: “Sorry. Too late.”

She: “Too late? Since when?

He: “Since after sundown. About four hours ago now.”

She: “What does that have to do with it?”

He: “Just, like, everything.”

She: “Are you being difficult on purpose?

He: “Do you see an aquarium in here large enough to hold a porpoise? Even if one would let me ride it? Look. It’s simplicity itself. You said you were looking for something about David.”

She: “Yes. I was.”

He: “Well. It’s night now. For David, you need light to see by. Says so right there. Day. Vid. So you’re just going to have to wait until tomorrow, after dawn.”

She: “Why, thank you, love. I won’t have to take out zombie insurance after all.”

He: “Zombie …”

She: “When they come to the house, all I have to do is push you to the door. ‘See? No brains here!‘ I couldn’t buy better protection!”


Quilly is the pseudonym of Charlene L. Amsden, who lives in the Pacific Northwest. When she is not doing book reviews or creating curriculum literature units, she is working on writing the next great American novel. You may visit her writing blog at http://charlene-amsden.com. To change this standard text, you have to enter some information about your self in the Dashboard -> Users -> Your Profile box.


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2 Comments

  • QuillyNo Gravatar says:

    Oh my love, so not true — YOU were the zombie by the time we had the David conversation. You were stumbling through the house with your eyes half open chanting “Bed, bed, bed,” not “brains, brains, brains.”

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