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would hope so.
    I yawned again and blindly reached out for her stomach.
    My hand shot into something cool and wet.
    I felt around.
    It seemed like my hand was in an open bag of cold
spaghetti. And it smelt like Barbara hadn’t changed her socks
in quite some time.
    Then she screamed something.
    “ Why am I a fool?!”
    Did she suddenly feel guilty for touching me in my
sleep? I laughed and sat up hugging her, opening my eyes.
    Oh god it was the head of the obese zombie tasting my
FACE!
    It was smiling. My hand was in its severed belly.
    Squatting, I leapfrogged through the tent, mumbling
loudly as the whole place fell around me. Barbara wrapped me in the
tent and picked me up and threw me to safety against a tree.
    I heard the unmistakable sounds of a serious beat-down
as I tried desperately to climb my way out of the tent’s skin.
When I was free and whipped the plastic away from my eyes, it was
raining heavily. Against the giant moon, Barbara held the zombie’s
head high above her and kicked it far into the distance, into the
Honolulu city lights.
    The head was silent as it sailed.
    I nodded to Barbara in respect.
    She-was-a-maz-ing.
    The zombie belly was burned.
    “ This here be zombie country, ma’am,”
I whispered to myself as she walked off into the bushes. “This
here be zombie country and ye be the farmer who farms. My wanton body
is your lustful tractor. Amen.”

    Seventeen.

    In the morning, I smelt something cooking. I got out and
stretched and saw that Barbara had created a tiny fire and was
boiling a tiny pot. I walked over, rubbing my stomach to signal that
I was hungry.
    She said that she was boiling the zombie’s
shoulder. On hearing this, I instantly regurgitated onto my shirt for
a 2 nd time.
Barbara threw her head back and laughed, and then threw her head
forward and snarled. She stirred the pot with a tree branch that I
can only assume to have been cleaned.
    Barbara explained that the human body needed food to
run.
    “ It is exactly like being an automobile that needs
gasoline. We are cars that eat meat. That is the best analogy you
shall ever hear. And today we shall eat that of a zombie – for
this be walking dead meat!”
    “ I shall not put it into my mouth. It shall never
go past these luscious lips. No!”
    I felt dizzy then, slapping my palms against the sides
of my head. Barbara laughed out loud and slapped her thighs.
    “ O’ stink child! O’ stink child of
mine! I reckon the body you currently possess is low on “gas”.
Har har har! O’ stink child. We have no food left, save for this .”
    May
the female version of God forgive me: For exactly three seconds I
considered eating this Walking Dead Meat…and I hungered. Oh,
no! I lusted for hideous bestial meat!
    Fighting off an intense wave of guilt and sickness, I
turned around, crying into my hands. I could feel Barbara’s
sweet touch on my shoulder. Her voice was that of a pure angel.
    “ Dear, sir, please do not weep. I care for you and
therefore would never feed thou anything upsetting and bestial. Now
come to me. Turn around and come to me.”
    I sniffed, smiled, and turned around with my arms open.
    Barbara shoved a palm-full of bestial meat into my
mouth. My eyes exploded. Barbara glued her hand to my mouth so I
wouldn’t vomit the bestial meat out. She rode me like a pony as
I got on all fours and pranced around, trying to spit up what was
shoved down. Barbara reached back and produced a reel of duck tape
and rolled the tape around and around my head, taping her hand to my
mouth.
    I made serious horse sounds out of frustration, all the
while trying to donkey kick her off my back. She wrestled me to the
ground and we rolled around for a bit before she picked me up and
pinned me against a tree. Pinecones fell, many hitting me on the
head. I made curious whining sounds.
    She held her cheek to mine, violently, and I immediately
became still, eyes bawling.
    “ Silencio,” she whispered. “Silencio.”
    What had I become?