"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a dead man must be in need of a life," she read, before tossing the book aside and snorting, "Piffle! Reanimation is a madman's dream." *
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, a tall man in a white linen suit and panama hat was peering into a black doctor's bag, making certain he had everything he might need.
"Garlic, wolfsbane, silver dagger, holy water, salt, graveyard soil, flashlight, and,..." reaching over to pick the next items up and put them into the bag, "several wooden stakes."
Beleiving himself to be well prepared, he turned to walk out the door, retreiving from teh tabletop a book of matches with the name "RICK'S" blazoned in fiery crimson on its black cover, and secreting it in the right front pocket of his suit.
That crimson. The same color as the towel wrapped around her the night she walked into his bedroom for the first time. But now was not the time to think about that.
Yet she couldn't help but remember that night, her wedding night, the crimson towel presoaked in lamb's blood to fool the villagers waiting for proof of both her virginity and the consummation of the marriage, and he went right along with the ruse, he had no choice, he loved her madly.
Meanwhile, at Rick's Undead Bar, hang out to Hollywood Stars, top fashion models and other rich and elite undead creatures of every sort .... as well as Carnies passing through town...
He sat, pensive, appearing perhaps devoid of synaptic activity
- but his mind roiled by thoughts of what might have been, unrequited love,
how he had come to this. Or perhaps it was just the worms. He crunched off
the end of a fibula, determined to drown his sorrows in marrow...
With a loud sluurrrpppp, the dead Santeria Priest downed his first drink
and grimaced as the still warm marrow burned all the way down to what
used to be his cold , dead stomach, but now was simply a mass of
rotten, maggot infested flesh. The marrow ran out and down what
remained of his body and into a spreading pool at his feet. "Gimme
another.." he barked at the zombie bartender, "and make it a double
this time..sawed.. not cracked". "Yes, Maaaaster.." croaked the
bartender as he laid a fresh femur on the bar, the bulbous hip joint
sawed neatly through , carefully placing it on a clean, white coaster.
No one could say The Undead Bar wasn't a classy joint. " Anything else
Maaaaster?.. Lime..? Salt?.." " Naw.. I dont need training wheels" the
priest snorted as he tilted the thick bone to his lips and drifted back
into his sad reverie.
Without bothering to ask, the bartender instinctively refilled the bowl on the counter with fresh, still twitching African Swallows, turned and walked away, leaving the Priest to his thoughts...
"....I wonder how the Saints are doing," he mused idly. "Perhaps I should throw another conjeroo on them."
The dead priest began to recite arcane words of power softly, under his breath.. Words that would make The Saints invincible against their age old enemies The Dolphins, or at least strong enough to beat the point spread so he could recoup some of the five large he'd lost over their last 3 games. He softly chanted an ancient rite of pigskin power while discreetly forming powerful symbols with his skeletal fingers under the bar. This went on for several minutes until the priest finally tired and thought "fuck it.. Who am I kidding ? Even my awesome power isn't enough to help these losers this year. They're getting their asses kicked.." as the 70" Plasma screen TV over the bar flash the 21-6 score in an ESPN break late in the 4th quarter...
At that moment outside the bar...
*Here is the story thus far. The Zombie Robin thread will stay open until Halloween or until a conclusion is reached, whichever comes first.
"Perhaps" said he, "but would you say the same for the revival of some lesser creature?"
He didn't really want to tell her his suspicion that one little passage in the back of the book might be an actual instruction.
He also didn't want to admit how well the syringe fit into the palm of his hand.
"Well that completely depends," she answered, her back to him. "Which lesser creatures are you thinking of?"
"Well, let's take a look at what the cat dragged in" he responded.
"You don't mean that nasty robin! I put that in the trash."
"You know what they say: one man's trash..."
"...is another man's wife, yes, yes, I know, I know, but that's not important now. And don't call me Shirley."
"Very funny" she answered flatly" No dear, I'm afraid the Robin wont work. Remember last year and the vampire problems we had ? I wasn't taking any chances this year. I drove a tiny stake through the evil bird's heart and cut off its head. So unless you want to spend all night stitching its little head back on, you'll have to go out and find some other miserable creature to do your little experiments on.. like a bum or a poor person or something." "Fine, fine." he answered in a resigned tone," and just where do you suggest I look for a dead street person at this ungodly hour?"
She started, "maybe you could try"
fwap, fwap, fwap.....
"Well hello Fluffy, what have you got there?" he said, approaching the cat, "is that another robin?"
"It appears to be... an African Swallow!", she exclaimed,"But those are supposed to be non-migratory!
"Wow... What are the odds of that?" he said quietly to himself.
"What was that Dear? I didn't catch it.." she answered ,as she pried the still spasming bird from Fluffy's teeth, eliciting a small spray of bright red blood across her Issey Miyaki silk blouse.
"Good girl Fluffy.. Give the bird to Mommy.."
"Oh nothing really.." He responded, " Just that you're right, that IS an African Swallow and YES, they are non-migratory... As a matter of fact, about the only place you'd find one around here would be Rick's Undead Bar up on Crowley and Thelema. They serve them as snacks with their marrow martinis as I recall..." He smiled briefly to himself remembering the wild times he'd had there in his younger years. " My point is, just as I'm faced with the question of where to come up with a dead body, fate brings me a token, pointing me to Rick's. What are the odds?"
"Yes, quite a coincidence, Dear.. I suppose you'd better run up there for your body, but don't stay long and do be careful. I've heard that a rough crowd hangs out there.. Dead Priests and Carnies and the like.. Just watch yourself is all I'm saying " she warned, " You're not as young as you used to be but you are still breathing.." A faint, sly, enigmatic smile crossed his face and was gone. "For the time being", he thought to himself, " for the time being..."