Here's a shorty that made me smile as I wrote it. I hope it does the same for you!

*

The best part of the zombie apocalypse? Chicks dig it when you save their lives. I'm serious. They really do, even if you're built like me. I'm not the tallest guy in town or the savviest or the best looking. I'm about as average as you can get. I'm five feet, ten inches tall. I have plain brown hair that I keep short. It's not mahogany or chestnut brown hair. It's not long or wavy or especially shiny. It's brown, like a cartoon brown. I'm not fat or skinny, either. I'm just, hell, I don't know. Out of shape normal? The best exercise I ever got was swinging around the battle sword I bought from the Renaissance Festival a couple years back. Damn, I love swinging that bad boy around. I would even buy watermelons, prop them up on a fence post and slice the hell out of them in costume. I'll admit it. In my mind, I've always been a bit of a bad assed. Who knew all that sword swinging would one day come in handy?

None of it was enough to save my mom or my sister. I guess I should say I couldn't save my dad, either. But it's funny saying I couldn't save him when I was the one who chopped off his head. Yeah, that sucked. I sort of liked the old man. I was sharpening Excalibur across my knees when he shambled into my room. I could tell something was wrong. He was covered in gore from gnawing on mom. I didn't see where he was bit, but it didn't matter. He growled, like in the movies. It was a deep, guttural noise that sounded as if it came from an animal instead of a human. He shambled towards me, gore covered hands outstretched and I knew. I don't know how I knew, I just knew. So I stood, yelled something like "Get back!" When he didn't react, I swung. My first kill. Dad. Dead and deader. After I puked, I felt okay.

I ran through the house. I found mom dead and in pieces. My sister was in the backyard with three other zombies still gnawing at her. She always was a slut. I dispatched each of them with extreme prejudice. It was easier than it sounds. With food in front of them, zombies are intent on eating. They don't care if someone else joins the fest. They don't care if there's more free lunch standing nearby. All they seem to care about is getting at the goodies on the inside. It's after the heart, lungs and organs are gone that the trouble begin. Then they are up on their feet and looking for more. What's crazy is how fast they can eat. They can tear through a human faster than, well, I don't what. After killing the last of the zombies eating my sister I looked at what was left. It wasn't pretty. There were pieces of a lung and most of her intestines. Apparently, zombies don't like to eat shit. Really, who can blame them?

Mary Brooks is the stuck-up hottie who lives next door to me. There's a field that separates our houses. I stopped long enough to put on my running shoes and charged towards her house. Maybe I was too late, I didn't know, but I had to try. Mary might be a stuck-up bitch but she didn't deserve to die at the hands and mouth of a zombie.

It didn't go well. As I ran I could see their outside lights were on. The lights work on a motion detector. As I got closer I could see why they were on. Three of the undead were on the front lawn and shambling towards their door. I watched as the first one ran into the door a few times before I reached it. Like an idiot, Mary's dad answered the door and he was first to go. That gave me chance to take out the three zombies who fell on the guy for dinner. Like I said, when they're eating, the undead ignore everything else.

Mary's dad looked like a goner. I jumped over his body and called for Mary. Instead, I got Mary's fat-assed bitch of a mom. "What did you do to my husband?" she shrieked and threw a lamp at me. A fucking lamp! I swatted at it with Excalibur. All that baseball I had played as a kid served well.

"Mrs. Brooks! Zombies!" I tried to explain.

She gave me a wild eyed look and ran towards her husband's remains. Bad idea. Harold Brooks was bit badly enough to die and come back. He grabbed his wife and began eating. Those are the screams that keep me awake some nights. Even if it's not Mrs. Brooks I heard screaming in the distance, I always substitute her screams for the ones I hear. Being eaten alive hurts.

I've had a lot of time to work it out. If you get bit, you turn. It doesn't matter where you get bit, just that you did. It was to be a bite. Don't ask me why, but just getting zombie guts and gore on you or in your mouth won't do it. If the bite is fatal (Mr. Brooks was bit first on the jugular) and you're not torn to bits by other zombies, you can turn pretty damn fast. As soon as you die, I guess. If it's a non-fatal bite, then it takes a while for the poison to do its job. You still die and turn into one of the undead, but it can take a few hours. So, after a while, you start to kill the freshly bit with as much impunity as you give to the real thing. Why not? They're only going to cause problems sooner or later. I don't do a lot of that, but I do it.

Mrs. Brooks was still screaming bloody murder (in the most precise description I can give) when Mary ran into the room. She was confused and scared. She saw what her dad was doing to her mom. "Do something!" she screamed at me. I already was. I swung at Mr. Brooks head and took him out. Ripped and torn apart, but mostly uneaten, Mary's mom turned quickly. She snarled at me and that was all I needed. It was off with her head.

"Holy fuck!" Mary said.

"Yeah. Zombies," I explained.

"No shit," she said. She was wearing a tight t-shirt and cotton shorts. She looked hot as hell. She wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples were hard as hell. Funny how I can remember all of that as if it happened yesterday. "Are there more?"

"Three more dead ones out front," I said. I did the best I could to nudge the remains of her parents out of the way and shut the door. The TV was on in the living room and the newscasters had broken into programming with updates. The shit was real and it was happening everywhere. No one knew why. No one knew if there was a ground zero. No one cared. Mary and I gravitated to the couch and stared at the screen in awe.

"Thanks for saving my life," she said after the reality of the new times had sunk in.

"No problem," I said.

"Why me?"

"Because you're cute," I said. It was the truth and I was too freaked out to lie.

"Thanks," she said and we kept watching TV. I don't remember when it happened, but after a while Mary suggested I take a shower and wash the gore off of me. I did. She gave some of her dad's clothes to wear. They didn't fit very well. I didn't care. I could go home and get clothes. Then she took me to her room.

"I don't want to die a virgin," she said and she gave me a tentative kiss.

"You're a virgin?" I asked. Considering the dead were coming back to life and eating the living, it was probably a small detail, but it still surprised me.

"Yeah, aren't you?"

"Fuck no," I said.

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious," I insisted.

She put her hand on her hip and gave me that classic, bitchy look that thankfully mostly ends after high school. "Who?" she demanded.

"Karen Miller? Irene Mays? Oh, and I did actually do Becky Favors, but we did everything else. She was fun. I miss her."

"Why didn't you save one of them?"

"You were closer."

"I can't believe I'm a virgin and you're not," she said.

"Just means I know what I'm doing," I suggested.

"If we don't die and you tell anyone about this, I'm going to kill you."

I leaned Excalibur next to her bedroom door where I could get it easily. Then I kissed her. I didn't play kiss her, I mean, I kissed her. Fuck it. I was the hero. I had seen enough movies. I was going to kiss like a hero. I pressed my lips against hers and shoved my tongue inside her mouth. Mary moaned with surprise before she melted against me. Then she pulled away and took off her t-shirt. I was right. She wasn't wearing a bra, she had great nipples and her tits were perfection served with a slice of pie on the side.

I guess it's salacious of me to go into details about what happened next, but fuck it. Up to that point in my life, Mary was a perfect ten to me. She was the hot chick every guy used in their fantasies. I pulled off her dad's clothes (creepy, I know) and allowed her to see my hard prick. "I don't know what to do," she said.

"Take off your shorts and I'll take care of the rest," I told her. "You've seen a hard dick before, right?"

"In movies and stuff."

"Good enough. Then you know you're supposed to suck it first, right?"

"Do I have to?"

"No, you can die a virgin," I said and I made like I was going to get dressed.

"Wait, like this?" she asked. She wrapped her pretty, pouty lips around me and began sucking. She wasn't good. She wasn't as good as Karen Miller. Now that bitch could suck some damn dick! But it didn't matter, not really. I wasn't going to come in Mary's mouth; I just wanted to see her face wrapped around my prick. It was a call out to my bro's that she didn't know. It was a shout out to all the times one of us bro's had said to the other, The only thing that would make her smile prettier would be to see it wrapped around my dick. While she sucked, I found myself hoping some of those guys were doing okay. "Am I doing good?" she asked.

"Good enough," I told her. I was ready to fuck. Fuck getting blown. Fuck everything. "Why don't you get on the bed?"

Mary climbed on the bed, laid on her back and gave me a pensive look. "Is it going to hurt?"

"Maybe," I said and I positioned myself between her legs for the first time. Irene had been my first. Before we did it, we had read up about how to do it. It's what geeks do, I guess. I knew from our reading that some girls, those with an intact hymen, might feel a sharp pain as it broke. There could be a bit of blood. From there, it would be smooth sailing. That's how it had gone with Irene and Karen. That's not how it happened with Mary. I slipped right inside of her without a problem. "You sure you're a virgin?"

Okay, in hindsight, that wasn't the smoothest thing to say the moment you enter a girl who's telling you she's a virgin.

"You fucking bastard! Get off me!" she screamed, bucking against me. I rolled off of her. "What the fuck do you mean?"

"I'm just saying, the other girls..."

"Fuck those whores," she said and then she started crying.

Perfect, I thought. As if a zombie apocalypse wasn't enough, I had to deal with a crying, spoiled brat. "Sorry," I said and I rolled out of her bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Home? Kill more zombies? I don't know."

"But I thought we were going to, you know..." She was still sniffling.

"We just did. That's all it takes, one stroke. Congratulations, now you're no longer a virgin."

"But Terry said it didn't count unless I had an orgasm."

"Terry? Terry Wilson?" I asked. She nodded. I knew who Terry Wilson was. He was the star player on our high school soccer team and her boyfriend. "You and Terry fuck?"

"We do that part, but Terry said I was still virgin because I didn't have an orgasm from it."

"Have you ever had an orgasm?"

She blushed and nodded. "When I do it myself."

"With your fingers."

"Ew, no! I use my toy. I'm not going to touch down there."

"Can I see your toy?"

"No," she said.

"Okay," I shrugged. I picked up her dad's oversized pants. I had to wear something back to my house.

"Wait, here it is," she said and she pulled a huge, industrial strength vibrator from her nightstand drawer.

"You use that on yourself?" I asked, stunned. She nodded. "Inside or outside?"

"Both. I like it inside, really deep. That's bad, isn't it? Terry said that's why I was so big down there."

I was confused for a moment. I hadn't been inside of her for long, but she was far from too big. She felt tight. I knew tightness had nothing to do with virginity, so that left only one answer. "Can I ask you a question? Whose bigger, me or Terry?" I faced her with my still hard cock.

"Terry's is half that size. Are you black?"

"What?"

"Terry said the only guys with dick bigger than him were black guys."

"Mary? Terry was lying to you. I'm bigger than average, but I'm not a freak of nature."

"Terry said all the guys in porn were part black."

"Terry is a fucking liar," I laughed and wondered how many other ways she could be fucked in the head. I thought about taking the time to explain it to her, setting the record straight with her, but it felt like too much work. "Look, you're fine. Terry's a lying bastard with a tiny dick and I'm going back to my house for some clothes that fit. If you want to come over, I'll fuck you in my bed."

She did and I did and I guess she lost her virginity when she came while I was still inside of her.

I don't know, it's nights like this that I think most about Mary. She never lost her bitchy streak but I still think it was sad that I had to dispatch her the next day. We were going house to house in neighborhood to see who was left. Mary didn't want to listen to me. She ran into her girlfriend's house and got bit. Oh well, it happens. I took them both out. First her girlfriend and then, after she turned, Mary. But that was how I met Leslie Carson, the slightly older sister to Mary's friend. Leslie had been hiding in her room with the door barricaded against her sister. She heard voices, killing and finally me saying good-bye to Mary.

"Hello?" she called out from her bedroom. "Is that person?"

"It's me," I called back, introducing myself. "It's safe."

"There's zombies," she called.

"I know."

"Did you, you know, kill them?"

"Dead again," I promised.

"I really need to pee," she said and she undid her door and ran across the hall for the bathroom. She didn't shut the door to the bathroom. I didn't look. It felt rude. "Who are you again?"

"I live done the block."

"You're the weird guy who chops watermelons with a sword?"

"Yeah, that's me."

Leslie flushed and came back into the hallway. She was wearing panties and a t-shirt. She saw legs from her sister and Mary. The rest of them were inside the other bedroom. Leslie threw her arms around me and gave me a huge kiss. "Thank you," she said. I guess I was staring at her tits because of what she said next. "Keep me safe and those are yours," she said and kissed my cheek. "Those and every other part of me."

Like I said, there's nothing like zombie apocalypse for picking up chicks.