[Quiet Man Cometh]

Happens. I burnt myself out in October on little writing exercise. In the meantime, here's the little snippet I wrote out when the computers at work were down:

"The zombie apocalypse plan had a few holes in it when it came to applying it to other manifestations of undead. For one, a shot gun did a fat lot of good against a fleshless skeleton, unless you were close enough to fire point-blank into its skull. But then, at that range you may as well have armed yourself with a set of golf clubs and worked on your swing…less chance of accidental fire into your hip.

Poor Jim was always more of a baseball fellow. He left his bat mounted on the wall.

After that, kicking and stomping generally got the rest of the bones to stop twitching. Zombies were fresher –in a manner of speaking. Anything that was dead long enough to become a skeleton generally didn’t have much in the way of teeth to bite with."


I haven't gotten to the part where hitting skeletons with cars is nasty on one's windshield, and that cow-catchers are coming back into fashion.