and held up one hand, the other was busy trying to contain his innards. "Enough." I nodded at his concession, reached in my coat pocket and handed him my stapler. "Thank you." He looked like I had forced him to eat lemons (also known for causing projectile vomiting) and I couldn't blame him. After he had closed the wound to his belly he handed me the stapler back, I stapled my face back to normal, and we began stopping the other fights that were going on around us.
We beat the snot out of those ghouls, as well as earned a promise that they'd leave Martin's alone, after buying Griffin a new game. A collective cheer went up among my horde. Griffin had a tear in his eye as he looked over the ruins of his once cherry Donkey Kong as well as an utterly smashed Evel Knievel pinball game, one splintered foosball table, and several chairs that we had destroyed in the battle. He whipped out a calculator and came up with an amount. He then informed the ghouls they were to pay the larger half, as they had started the fight. It didn't go over well and I was worried for a second that another fight would start. Some extremely angry and downright obscene words from Griffin cowed them, and the ghouls agreed. They gave him a credit card which he then ran and forced the skag leader to sign. We all apologized, but I saw a bitter light in the eyes of the ghoul who had started the whole mess. I knew if I ever saw him alone we'd be fighting again. He didn't like being beaten by a zombie.
That very night, they began calling the incident 'The Undead American Brawl'. I'm embarrassed to say that's how it, and I, will be remembered by most of the patrons. After the ghouls left, I sought out Griffin in his office.
"Hey, I'm really sorry."
"It's not your fault, Bob. Those ghouls are getting downright dangerous. Their witch hasn't called on them at all, they're starting to brag about it. I need to find her before they get too wild and start eating humans. If that leash isn't kept short they can easily run amok and start causing serious problems for us supers. I just know that Von Karolinas is going to hear about this, and give me hell for it." He sighed and rubbed his temples like a man fighting a big headache.
"Why didn't your mojo work on them?" I probably should have left, but I had to know.
"I don't know. It normally does. I wonder if there aren't other problems due to them never being called. I really have to find that witch." He then started mumbling and looking through the rolodex.
"What about the credit card they gave you? Us dead folks don't exactly have live accounts. It's possible she gave them a card in case they needed something." I shrugged and smiled an apology for interrupting him.
"Bob! You're a genius." He bolted up and ran for the bar. I smiled at his praise and slowly followed him, chuckling to myself how much the scene looked like a monster movie; him running away, me slowly ambling after him. I was chortling by the time I entered the main bar.
Face had put 'Highway to Hell' on the Wurlitzer and I joined my squishy, rotting brothers on the dance floor. For me, it had been a great day. People had looked up to me and been impressed with my gaming skills. I'd also been able to showcase my ass kicking skills. I felt like I was 'The Zombie'. I danced like I had no worries in the world and when the song stopped I was breathing hard and grinning like an idiot. The people around me were also grinning. There was a thick undercurrent of joy running through Martin's that its owner was not responsible for. I had finally stood up for myself and my brothers and had done what was right rather than sit back meekly and allow someone to bully us, yet again.
It felt great. A part of me felt badly about the Donkey Kong game, but mostly I felt like I was alive again, for real. As a zombie, one of the things that overwhelms me is the fact that we don't feel emotions as strongly as we did when we were human. It can be a little sad, but for the most
Ann Fogarty, Anne Crawford