I used to eat brains, why wouldn’t I, I’m a damn zombie! Runnin’ with my putrefying bro’s from terrified city to city, just cruising for brains and chicks. Well, on one of these trips through the lovely post zombie apocalypse world I saw a sign for waffles. Zombies can’t resist waffles, I mean who can right? Had to have some, so I broke from the pack of my flesh decaying brethren and went to check the place out, then shit got weird.

Who the hell is alive to make waffles was the main thing I was thinking, that and braiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinsss. I approached the small diner with the ridiculously large waffle sign. I stopped in front of the door to get into character. Hunched my back, brought my arms up straight….brrraaaaiinss…no, that’s not right…bbbbbbbrrrrrraaaaaaaiiiiinnnnnnsssss. Eh, it’ll have to do. Kicking the door open I zombied right into that damn place. Before I let could let out a decent brraaiinnnsss a shotgun blast blew my legs off clean below the knees. People, humans, they surrounded me on all sides. One particularly fat human in an oily shirt told the others to tie me up out back so they could get some good old fashioned zombie intel. I blurted out, “you know you don’t have to tie me up to get zombie with it, zombie with it, na na na na na na na getting zombie with it.” For some strange reason, they knocked me out after that. I woke up in the back of their diner, legless and wrapped in chains. All I wanted was a damn waffle! Maybe a side of brains, just a small side; they were all sitting in front of me staring with their inbred eyes when I woke up. “Dang, we ain’t know zombies could talk” said a pig faced woman from the back. “Well, I guess the jig is up, you better get president Truman on the horn. You guys shot me pretty quick, I didn’t event get a good brains out, I had been practicing you know.” I told the assembled shitbirds and fucktards. “What’s your name?” said one turd. “Well, he’s wearin a shirt that says Joe,” someone else said from the back. “Joe works for me,” I said, “Yup, Zombie Joe, now how bout some of them waffles?” “Oh, we don’t have waffles we just keep the sign up for zombies. They usually come in looking for waffles, but when you came in saying brains, well I had to shoot,” said a chain smoking seventy eight pound old lady in a wife beater, tatted up from head to toe, holding a shotgun bigger than she was. “I’m a good actor lady, all zombies are, and we are very dedicated method actors. We even eat your brains, that’s how committed to our craft we are.” They all left after that and I was alone in the cell for days.

A goofy looking kid with buckteeth and a bald spot on a ginger head strutted into the garage holding something metal, his name was Hank. By now I had been untied but confined to this damn garage legless for days with only lizards to eat, courtesy of the chef. GODDAMN WAFFLES! “Yo Joe, I brought you a present dude,” Hank said moving closer to my cage.” “Oh, yeah kid, what cha got, some juicy brains over easy?” “Nah, I feel kinda bad about granny shootin your legs off an’ all so I made you a new pair out of old pogo sticks.” He extended them to me and I took them gladly. “Aw, thanks kid, these are swell, I been getting tired sittin back here legless.” I strapped them sons a bitches on below my knees, jamming them into the bone til they were nice and tight. I jumped and damn near hit my head on the ceiling light.  “Say Hank, let me out to test em, I’ll come right back I promise and you know I don’t like brains, come on man, zombies just wanna have fun.” Hank fidgeted, “well I don’t know Joe,” “awww come on Hank,” I gave him my best empty socket eyes I could hoping for some sympathy and it worked. “Ok Joe, but just to test them out now.” “Sure buddy sure.” I told him. He opened the door to my cell and I immediately ate his brains. Then I proceeded to hippity hop my half dead ass out of that dungeon. I really did want some waffles, but after a couple weeks of lizards, them human brains are startin to sound good again.

Nobody else was around; it was too early they were still sleeping. But my squeaking springs woke granny, she stirred but before she could get up and shotgun my shiny new legs I had to eat them brains. The shotgun of destiny was mine!  My name is zombie Joe; I wear a shirt that says it goddamnit! Now I’m no longer just a zombie, I’m a super badass zombie with a shotgun and pogo stick legs. Brains all around!

You know, older brains don’t taste very good; they’re too tough and stringy. I think it’s all that book learnin.’ About mid life makes a nice medium rare brain, very enjoyable, you can almost taste the dissatisfaction. That’s where Ray enters the picture; he was a very likable human, terrified of the zombies and on the run. I ran into him and he told me of his plight, how his family had been eaten and then zombified, even the family dog. How he had escaped several car crashes and disasters along the way including zombie hordes chasing him. I assured him I was a different type of zombie and by my pogo stick legs I think he saw I was telling the truth. He told me his life story from childhood to the apocalypse crying on my shoulder, he said he was a scientist and had a cure for zombieism in an underground lab. While I was skeptical, I told him he was very lucky and smart to have such a wonderful cure. “Somebody must be lookin out for you Ray,” I told him as my lower jaw fell off. He smiled and I ate his brains.

Leaving Rays’ corpse I was hoppin down the street, just springin along. I would whistle but you know, I don’t really have lips or bones per say. My springs must have been echoing loud, before I knew it I was surrounded by my zombie bro’s. They all stopped, forming a circle around me. “Check out the legs fellas,” I said as I hopped up and down. My old pal wormy Phil was staring back me, deader than usual. “Phil, what’s up Phil?” The moaning of the other guys started. Then Phil let me have it. “Well Joe, I’ll tell ya what, we all had a chat a few minutes ago and decided with those shiny things on you, were pretty sure you ain’t no zombie no more, and well….BBBRRRRAAAAAIIINNNNSSSSS!!!!!” “What the fuck, Phil, guys!” They were closing the circle; I shot gunned Phil right in his stupid fuckin wormy face. Then I hopped away from my dumbass confused bro’s. Why would they want my brain? There’s only half of it left, and that half is moldy! Meh! Whatever man, zombies are weird. They chased me for sixty four miles, until they found some other brain trail. I hopped left and saw a big ass waffle sign in the distance, hunger time again!