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Today is a super special day on the BLOGshit. We have a Mark Tufo EXCLUSIVE! That's right, you're only going to be able to read this right here on Books, Beer and BLOGshit! One of the options we gave to the blog tour participants was to write a short piece about, "What I Did On My Zombie Summer Vacation." This was the option we were most hoping the writers would go with. Not many did but the ones we got are magnificent!
So here and here only, I present to you, Mark Tufo's What I Did On My Zombie Summer Vacation as told by Mark's nefarious zombie clown, Timmy!
Let 'er rip!
Timmy’s Summer Apocalypse
“Timmy? Timmy? Wake up! This is class not your tomb where only hell knows what you do!”
Mrs. Grimestein shrieked, shredding through her taut vocal chords. Timmy’s classmates giggled in a
deep groaning manner befitting of the newly teenaged dead. “It is your turn to speak.” Her tongue
peeked and poked out through the hole in the side of her cheek sometimes she would bite down on it
hard enough to draw blood and would pause as her eyes rolled up and she drank deeply of the brackish fluid. Timmy stood, he was enormous for thirteen, already well over six feet tall and two hundred pounds, he’d used his size advantage to his benefit for as long as he could remember, intimidating his classmates and sometimes his teachers.
Of them all it was Mrs. Grimestein with her gray rotting flesh that had never been able to see his
vastly superior size as scary. She would mock him at every turn, he would later learn that this was her way of keeping him ‘small’ but for now he went to the head of the class to deliver his Summer
Apocalypse report. He was all too aware of the condition his umm rigor mortis was causing, the front of his pants stuck out like he had a narwhal tucked down there. His classmates moaned in derision as his member preceded him. Timmy turned and faced the room, his face twisted up in strain as he let loose the build of up of gaseous pressure within his colon, ribbons of Bob the janitor’s undigested lower intestines fell from Timmy’s rectum pooling up in the seat of his pants, making the tight clothes that much more uncomfortable. Wendy Walker wrinkled up her nose from the offending smell then began to lick at the air like a snake sampling a scent. Timmy cleared his throat, a wet bloody ball of phlegm and fibrous material shot out from his mouth and fell with a squishing sound to the floor. Don Deader and Sara Shambler fought for the food ort.
“What I did for my summer apocalypse.” He started, his voice sounding like he had tiny bits of razor sharp coral shoved down his throat causing the vocalized air to be thick and coated in fluid. “Her name was Vivian.” There was a sneering snicker rippling throughout the class until he gazed at each and every one of his classmates threatening to stuff their heads into long unflushed toilets. “Vivian
Deneaux.” He continued. “She tried to kill me, had a gun pressed to my forehead. The joke was on her though it was empty. I bit her outstretched hand so hard I ripped her thumb clean off!” The front of Timmy’s pants which had been deflating, once again began to inflate with the thought. “The crunch of her brittle bones was heavenly the burst of marrow like a cream filled snack.” His eyes took on a dreamy expression. “I stripped her thumb of meat like a chicken bone, her screams of pain and shock like a deep am...am (he struggled with the unfamiliar word) am...”
“Ambrosia.” Mrs. Grimestein said leaning around his side to look at his paper.
“Yeah ambrosia. I moved up the length of her arm, the loose flesh from her upper arm pulled away with only some slight tugging I knew it was going to be tender.” He was drooling slightly now. “I
held her up as I chewed through the fatty wriggly meat. I slurped every delicious morsel. She was still screaming which I found amazing for someone so old. Usually they die pretty quickly, not this one though she was a tough old bird, I mean in the head not in the body that was as tender as fine
steakhouse aged steak. When I was done on her arm there wasn’t meat enough for a maggot and still the bitch wouldn’t die. Then I got an idea.” He pointed to his head like he was amazed something other than ‘eat...shit’ passed through there.
“Really?” Mrs. Grimestein also seemed surprised.
“She wouldn’t die so I saved her.”
There was an audible gasp from his classmates who were now rapt with his report.
“Yeah I saved her for later!” And then he laughed a wild maniacal thing. “She tasted so good I didn’t want to eat her in just one sitting, so I would bring another meal home and eat in front of her. She
would look at me sometimes wondering why I was doing that but I didn’t care. I like my food to be
aware of what is going to happen to them. When I was done with the little girl, I grabbed the old biddy’s lower calf, she struggled pretty hard for someone with one arm and about three thousand years behind her. Didn’t matter I bit through the bottom of her heel and ripped a chunk of flesh easily an inch...”
“Timmy!” Mrs. Grimestein started.
“Sorry, two point five three centimeters thick.’
“That’s better.”
“She had fat callouses and a few plantars warts that...I mean I just can’t describe how good it was. I mean even better than the first eyeball I ever ate.”
The class sighed thinking of their first times.
“Oh and the screams, it was an added am...am...”
“Ambience.” Mrs. Grimestein prodded. “Go on.” Seemed she was interested as well.
“I thought for sure she’d die but I think maybe she’s too mean for that. So on and on it went the entire summer, I would kill and eat someone and then take a portion of Deneaux as an after dinner mint, her calves, the sallow flesh of her thighs, just last week I ate her sex, have to admit that wasn’t the best part, sort of moldy but still better than most.”
“Is that it?” Mrs. Grimestein asked.
“Not quite I wanted to finish with a show and tell.” Timmy shuffled out of the room, he came back in pulling a chain. A furious old woman whose eyes blazed red was being dragged behind him, the chain wrapped tightly around her neck. Her arms and legs reduced to yellow bone as they scraped against the flooring. The class eyed her hungrily as she left a slimy trail of pus behind her.
“She is not one of us yet she is still alive?” Mrs. Grimestein had come closer. “I thought perhaps your story a fabricated tale Timmy, then I remembered you lacked the imagination.”
Timmy hadn’t heard a word his teacher said. “I present to you class, a gift. You can eat what remains though it will spoil it for every other meal you will ever have.” Chairs started moving backwards as his classmates arose. “First though! First Grimestein must die.”
There had never been a zombie on zombie killing before that day but never had something as special as that old crone ever been offered up as a motive. The rest of the day the class lazily ripped meat from Deneaux’s torso all the while she cursed and spat at them and finally begged for a cigarette before her eyes dimmed and closed.
“I cannot wait for school tomorrow. I have another surprise.” Timmy said as he walked out of the room. “I wonder what table wine goes with a Tal...” The door closed behind him and the rest was lost to the wind.
Thank you for having me on your blog and I hope you guys enjoy the short! -Mark Tufo
Woo! I think we all need a cigarette after that bit of juicy Tufo! While you're inhaling carcinogens, why not take a look at the links to all things Mark Tufo. Its equally orgasmic we assure you!
Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=mark+tufo
email
mark@marktufo.com
website
www.marktufo.com
Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mark-Tufo/133954330009843?ref=hl
Twitter
@zombiefallout
Today is a super special day on the BLOGshit. We have a Mark Tufo EXCLUSIVE! That's right, you're only going to be able to read this right here on Books, Beer and BLOGshit! One of the options we gave to the blog tour participants was to write a short piece about, "What I Did On My Zombie Summer Vacation." This was the option we were most hoping the writers would go with. Not many did but the ones we got are magnificent!
So here and here only, I present to you, Mark Tufo's What I Did On My Zombie Summer Vacation as told by Mark's nefarious zombie clown, Timmy!
Let 'er rip!
Timmy’s Summer Apocalypse
“Timmy? Timmy? Wake up! This is class not your tomb where only hell knows what you do!”
Mrs. Grimestein shrieked, shredding through her taut vocal chords. Timmy’s classmates giggled in a
deep groaning manner befitting of the newly teenaged dead. “It is your turn to speak.” Her tongue
peeked and poked out through the hole in the side of her cheek sometimes she would bite down on it
hard enough to draw blood and would pause as her eyes rolled up and she drank deeply of the brackish fluid. Timmy stood, he was enormous for thirteen, already well over six feet tall and two hundred pounds, he’d used his size advantage to his benefit for as long as he could remember, intimidating his classmates and sometimes his teachers.
Of them all it was Mrs. Grimestein with her gray rotting flesh that had never been able to see his
vastly superior size as scary. She would mock him at every turn, he would later learn that this was her way of keeping him ‘small’ but for now he went to the head of the class to deliver his Summer
Apocalypse report. He was all too aware of the condition his umm rigor mortis was causing, the front of his pants stuck out like he had a narwhal tucked down there. His classmates moaned in derision as his member preceded him. Timmy turned and faced the room, his face twisted up in strain as he let loose the build of up of gaseous pressure within his colon, ribbons of Bob the janitor’s undigested lower intestines fell from Timmy’s rectum pooling up in the seat of his pants, making the tight clothes that much more uncomfortable. Wendy Walker wrinkled up her nose from the offending smell then began to lick at the air like a snake sampling a scent. Timmy cleared his throat, a wet bloody ball of phlegm and fibrous material shot out from his mouth and fell with a squishing sound to the floor. Don Deader and Sara Shambler fought for the food ort.
“What I did for my summer apocalypse.” He started, his voice sounding like he had tiny bits of razor sharp coral shoved down his throat causing the vocalized air to be thick and coated in fluid. “Her name was Vivian.” There was a sneering snicker rippling throughout the class until he gazed at each and every one of his classmates threatening to stuff their heads into long unflushed toilets. “Vivian
Deneaux.” He continued. “She tried to kill me, had a gun pressed to my forehead. The joke was on her though it was empty. I bit her outstretched hand so hard I ripped her thumb clean off!” The front of Timmy’s pants which had been deflating, once again began to inflate with the thought. “The crunch of her brittle bones was heavenly the burst of marrow like a cream filled snack.” His eyes took on a dreamy expression. “I stripped her thumb of meat like a chicken bone, her screams of pain and shock like a deep am...am (he struggled with the unfamiliar word) am...”
“Ambrosia.” Mrs. Grimestein said leaning around his side to look at his paper.
“Yeah ambrosia. I moved up the length of her arm, the loose flesh from her upper arm pulled away with only some slight tugging I knew it was going to be tender.” He was drooling slightly now. “I
held her up as I chewed through the fatty wriggly meat. I slurped every delicious morsel. She was still screaming which I found amazing for someone so old. Usually they die pretty quickly, not this one though she was a tough old bird, I mean in the head not in the body that was as tender as fine
steakhouse aged steak. When I was done on her arm there wasn’t meat enough for a maggot and still the bitch wouldn’t die. Then I got an idea.” He pointed to his head like he was amazed something other than ‘eat...shit’ passed through there.
“Really?” Mrs. Grimestein also seemed surprised.
“She wouldn’t die so I saved her.”
There was an audible gasp from his classmates who were now rapt with his report.
“Yeah I saved her for later!” And then he laughed a wild maniacal thing. “She tasted so good I didn’t want to eat her in just one sitting, so I would bring another meal home and eat in front of her. She
would look at me sometimes wondering why I was doing that but I didn’t care. I like my food to be
aware of what is going to happen to them. When I was done with the little girl, I grabbed the old biddy’s lower calf, she struggled pretty hard for someone with one arm and about three thousand years behind her. Didn’t matter I bit through the bottom of her heel and ripped a chunk of flesh easily an inch...”
“Timmy!” Mrs. Grimestein started.
“Sorry, two point five three centimeters thick.’
“That’s better.”
“She had fat callouses and a few plantars warts that...I mean I just can’t describe how good it was. I mean even better than the first eyeball I ever ate.”
The class sighed thinking of their first times.
“Oh and the screams, it was an added am...am...”
“Ambience.” Mrs. Grimestein prodded. “Go on.” Seemed she was interested as well.
“I thought for sure she’d die but I think maybe she’s too mean for that. So on and on it went the entire summer, I would kill and eat someone and then take a portion of Deneaux as an after dinner mint, her calves, the sallow flesh of her thighs, just last week I ate her sex, have to admit that wasn’t the best part, sort of moldy but still better than most.”
“Is that it?” Mrs. Grimestein asked.
“Not quite I wanted to finish with a show and tell.” Timmy shuffled out of the room, he came back in pulling a chain. A furious old woman whose eyes blazed red was being dragged behind him, the chain wrapped tightly around her neck. Her arms and legs reduced to yellow bone as they scraped against the flooring. The class eyed her hungrily as she left a slimy trail of pus behind her.
“She is not one of us yet she is still alive?” Mrs. Grimestein had come closer. “I thought perhaps your story a fabricated tale Timmy, then I remembered you lacked the imagination.”
Timmy hadn’t heard a word his teacher said. “I present to you class, a gift. You can eat what remains though it will spoil it for every other meal you will ever have.” Chairs started moving backwards as his classmates arose. “First though! First Grimestein must die.”
There had never been a zombie on zombie killing before that day but never had something as special as that old crone ever been offered up as a motive. The rest of the day the class lazily ripped meat from Deneaux’s torso all the while she cursed and spat at them and finally begged for a cigarette before her eyes dimmed and closed.
“I cannot wait for school tomorrow. I have another surprise.” Timmy said as he walked out of the room. “I wonder what table wine goes with a Tal...” The door closed behind him and the rest was lost to the wind.
Thank you for having me on your blog and I hope you guys enjoy the short! -Mark Tufo
 |
| Zombie Author Mark Tufo |
Woo! I think we all need a cigarette after that bit of juicy Tufo! While you're inhaling carcinogens, why not take a look at the links to all things Mark Tufo. Its equally orgasmic we assure you!
Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=mark+tufo
mark@marktufo.com
website
www.marktufo.com
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mark-Tufo/133954330009843?ref=hl
@zombiefallout
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