HOW VAMPIRES BRANCHED OFF FROM ZOMBIES ... 5/9/14

This is just some information you might appreciate. It'll make upcoming episodes easier to understand. Zombies and vampires stem descend from the same stock.

Zombies came first. They date back to the last African Exodus when fully modern humans wandered out from The Mother Continent to populate the rest of the world. This was about one hundred and twentyfive thousand  years ago. Some say a hundred thousand years ago, others one hundred and fifty thousand years ago. We split the difference.

Along the way, somewhere on The Gangetic Plain, an isolated band apparently acquired 'the zombie bug,'... the microbial cocktail responsible for that flesh-eating condition. Physical anthropologists maintain the 'first infection' likely happened when a bleeding, injured individual, perhaps fleeing from a predator, fell into quicksand, seemed to 'die' but did not, managing to struggle out as humanity's first zombie.

Clan members obviously saw the difference. Someone presumed 'dead' was not dead. What's more, at a time when the average life span was maybe thirty years old, they seemed immortal. It's natural to assume the muddy depression responsible for this transformation became 'magical' in their eyes. Maybe other injured, bleeding people were thrown in? The necessary assortment of germs was still there. Most outcomes were probably similar. After a few human generations.... waa-laa, flesh-eaters walked the Earth. 

We now know those infected crave human flesh, specifically the protein, to replace waning levels of collagen and other connective tissues. An as yet unknown mechanism allows the necessary compounds to survive digestion and migrate where needed. Thus episodic decomposition is corrected. Regular cannibalistic meals can stave it off altogether. 

Average zombie lifespans run from three hundred and forty to four hundred and forty years. Occasionally, one makes it to eight hundred, or even older, though the regenerative nature of ingested human flesh ultimately breaks down. Decomposition proceeds unchecked. Death ensues. 

Vampirism came into the picture about forty thousand years ago. The exact mechanism is still unknown. Scientists believe some arcane energy , or non-physical coherence, played a part. There are stories of other worldly interference, alien tinkering. If you've been with this blog for a while you know. Or maybe they just evolved? Or maybe God really did create them to 'cull the wicked and preserve the worthy?' Mystery can be a wondrous thing, especially in the wee small hours of the morning. For mystery is the font of all magic and apparently our species needs that.

We'll return to the story next time, but we just thought you'd like to know.

If you're privy to any enchanted knowledge and would like to share, please do so via a comment.

The 'truth' is a vast, unending tapestry. We're all good for a few stitches...

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NEW BORN ZOMBIE,OPAL, AND UTHER, the uber ZOMBIE GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER ... 5/8/14

He locked the door and threw her on the bed. She saw her reflection in the mirror and shuddered. The shriveled lips and dry, shrunken eyelids gave her a NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS meets Twiggy look. Plus her hair looked like the first prize winner in an INTERNATIONAL FRIZZ PAGEANT. A thin, sticky film (soon to become skin) covered her ribs. That part she liked. 

What are you gonna do to me? - asked Opal..... Nutting - said the uber zombie..... Then why'd you bring me to a motel? - she added..... I know da manager. He giff me a deal. - said Uther..... That seemed to satisfy her.... He sat down in one of two matching 'occasional' chairs, meant to give the place an almost mini-suite ambiance and leafed through a neat stack of takeout/delivery pizza joint menus on a small, white, plastic, pedestal table. Not that he was drawn to the cuisine, but he had to do something. 

Do they got cable? - she asked..... He tossed her the remote. Five seconds later, the hundred and seventy nine dollar flat screen hanging over the bureau came to life.... Old Three Stooges funny films.... Moe throwing cream pies at the bosoms of fat, society matrons, who trilled like castrati every time they got hit.... Opal liked that. Right up her alley. Uther watched as she attempted to untangle her hair with her fingers. Results were so-so at best. Then she studied her torn, ruined finger tips. Flesh already puckered up around the exposed tips of bone.... She looked at the dried dirt all over her body and asked - When can I take a shower?.... Wait till the skin on your ribs 'sets' up a little more - he said..... Ewww, won't all the dirt get sealed in, like tattoos? - she asked..... For a bit - he said. But your body will absorb it. It will go away...... Then she clicked on ANDY COHEN .... Oh ,Amy Schumer  ! I love her! - she said..... Uther wasn't interested, preferring to leaf through a local real estate listing magazine.

Then, when Amy finished her last lady-parts reference and they broke for commercials, Opal turned toward the uber zombie and asked - Who're you?...... I am 'Uther.' - he said..... Are you a zombie too? - she asked..... He just nodded..... She gulped.  Her chin trembled.... I want to go home. When I'm better. When it all grows back, I wanna go home. I just wanna go home. I do. I do. I do. - she whispered.... He sighed and smiled. Then he shook his head.... She cried. Zombies can still cry... You'll need a new 'zombie' name. Who are you, Opal?..... She sniffed and nodded.... Then he said - That will never do..... He thought for a while and asked - Tohn-da-lay-oh, Tondaleo. What do you think about Tondaleo?..... Opal said - I ain't no 'Tondaleo.' Drop dead and go to hell...... In good time. In good time, my little foul mouthed 'knodel.' (in case you don't know, that's German for dumpling. just make sure to pronounce the 'k')..... She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth... The bed squeaked. Somebody pounded on the door and said - Housekeeping!..... Uther answered it, but kept the chain latch on. The voice on the other side dropped a few decibels and went - Got any bodies need cartin' away?..... Uther said - No, not this time... and locked up...... Opal said - What, you come here often?..... Uther went - No, but it's a zombie place. They know.

She just nodded and mouthed the word 'zombie.' Then she said - Get me some clothes..... He said - I will..... She went - Lucky jeans . I want Lucky jeans.

Uther wrote that down...

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BODY MASS... ZOMBIE STYLE... 5/7/14

The average human body is 40% muscle. Not necessarily 'fit' muscle. Just 'muscle' muscle. So the pathetic, skinny kid trembling in Opal's tight embrace had maybe fifty six pounds of meat on him, not counting fat deposits, which almost everyone knows is where the flavor is.

Being brand new at this and fresh from her temporary grave, Opal can't eat all that meat. Scraping up through six feet of damp, heavy, gravel-laden soil did abrade a lot of flesh, but most tissue survived. After wolfing down enough to sate her hunger and denuding most of his carcass between jawline and nipples, she let the body fall and caught her breath.

Uther aus Ulm caught the still twitching entree and finished him off. Bit through the unbelievably  intact trachea (all gristle, but that Ulm got strong choppers) and chewed on the in situ heart till it stopped quivering. He wasn't very hungry either. Just let the body fall, though not into the recently vacated grave. That's zombie-making-dirt, after all. Don't know how they got there, the soil microbes and all, but they did, so shut your mouth. OK?

The sandy haired, uber zombie looked at the exhausted new flesh-eater and said - You can talk, girl?...... Opal sat slumped against a tree, chin on her chest, absentmindedly studying her dirt encrusted crotch area, as the blood dried on her chin like a funny beard. She didn't answer. He gently kicked the sole of her foot. She said - W-what?...... Uther goes - Yo, mall-bitch (obviously familiar with a bit of the vernacular), what kind of zombie you want to be?.... The still dazed young female goes - You mean like a Democrat or a Republican?..... He goes - No.... Girl goes - Gay or straight?.... He says - No...... Opal snorts and goes - Lemme sleep. Lemme sleep. Lemme sleep. So he bends down and scoops her up like Rock Hudson did Doris Day in them old Kennedy era comedies and carries her off through the trees..... She leans into his chest and belches. Let me tell you, zombie belch stink real bad. Like a dog what got into a spoiled, raw ham.

When Uther questioned her, he meant does she want to be a shit ass, cheap, regular zombie, or a popular, sleek, uber zombie?

Right then and there she just wanted to sleep. That was a good sign. Meant the flesh she ate was starting to fix things..... cover up her ribs.... reupholster them finger tips.... humanize her eyelids.... and God knows what else. 

Ralphie and Ezekiel watched from a distance. They saw the strange European zombie carry her off. They saw the small and not so small forest rodents make short work of the corpse. They saw it all.

Ezekiel whispered - Bet he has a car...... Ralphie goes - What makes you say that?...... Ezekiel goes - She's naked, flesh-drugged and superficially decomposed. What's he gonna do? Wait for a bus!?

Then they scramble back into the mall and their secret lair under the floor. The pathetic, pile of garbage that used to be Gary really stank, but zombies don't care. Look, it's not their favorite thing, but they deal with it.

Ralphie snuggled into his nest-o-blankets with an old, tattered National Geographic. It was hard to read in the dim illumination from the dollar store Easter lights, but he didn't care. The pictures were the main thing... old Incan mummies.  And you know, some didn't look half bad. Took his mind off the confrontation with that Uther bastid, at least for the time being anyway...

Ezekiel slumped in his chair... a half busted recliner dragged down from a furniture clearance room up above. He didn't need no magazine, or ear-bud radio, or nothing. Just sat (slightly tilted to one side, 'cause the chair was broken) and thought.

Opal was gone... Damn.... And he wanted a new, little sister too...

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ZOMBIES ARE SO CAPRICIOUS AND SELFISH... 5/4/14

They waited for her to break through. Ralphie trilled - Can you hear her? Can you hear her? Can you hear her?!... He's an excitable sort of zombie. Ezekiel hates that. He just looked at him and didn't say a word..... Ralphie sensed the disapproval and shut up, but he couldn't help fidgeting and tittering every few heartbeats. Strictly speaking, zombies have no supernatural, or paranormal abilities. They do have an acute sense of hearing and a more or less canine sense of smell. Most easily pick up the frantic scrambling of live souls in the ground. Some apparently detect magnetic particles in the bones of living people. Conspiracy theorists site semi-substantiated findings from an early sixties Area 51 study focusing on thirty nine assorted zombies purchased from the Soviets during Khrushchev's era. Plan was to utilize them for space exploration. Zombies can do everything ordinary humans can and then some. Plus, who cares if they decompose and die? They're only zombies. It's just a hobby. They say three or four escaped into the surrounding hills. Ate a few old ladies, old men... at that age it's hard to tell. Night crew left them alone, bought off with six or seven boxes of Dunkin Donuts and some kind of diet soda. When family members came by and asked - What happened to Aunt Sadie? ... Desk woman goes - We don't know. Maybe she's hiding? Sometimes they hide real good.. (as she wipes powdered sugar from the corners of her mouth and sucks doughnut goo off her teeth)... Aunt Sadie's nephew goes - Look, you, I want that old lady.... Woman gestures down the corridor and  goes -Grab one. Why you gotta be so particular?.. Never found them three or four escaped zombies. Some folks say they got a custard  stand in Reno, or a Jenny Craig franchise. One did a few guest shots on Petticoat Junction, but he had a real good agent, 'cause lot a shows don't wanna book zombies.

Little bit later Ezekiel whispers - She's coming..... Ralphie goes - Tee hee hee.... Ezekiel's left snaps out and cracks him across the face. Ralphie mouths a sullen 'sorry.'..... And then it happens. The tidy, little mound of dirt atop the grave begins to move and shift. Minute 'avalanches' roll down from the center. A thin, white, blue tinged hand thrusts out, the finger tips torn and ruined. Tiny points of white bone take the place of cat claws, as it strains up toward thin, dancing beams of moonlight stealing in through the trees. No one speaks. A forehead breaks through. Soon a face, eyelids torn and shriveled. The hair a filthy, tangled, black mass. Still blind from the ordeal, the newly minted zombie, Opal gulped in huge lung fills of air, as she gasps - Help me. Help me. Help me. 

Ralphie moves to assist her, but Ezekiel holds him back and says - No. She has to do it alone...... So they wait. Ralphie clasps and unclasps his hands, in expectation, as the newborn flesh eater pulls herself out of the grave and stands trembling against the rough bark of a large oak tree. A few ribs peek through her scraped and ravaged skin.

And then he's here. That's it. Just like that. The eight hundred year old Teutonic 'fleisch esser' Uther aus Ulm, strides through the brush, a gagged and terrified 'sacrificial victim' secure in his grasp. Ralphie and Ezekiel instantly dash into the shadows, as the invader pulls out a knife and deftly scores quick, shallow, oozing cuts all over the victim's body. 

Opal smells the blood. Her mouth begins to water. She reaches out toward the restorative meal and takes him into her desperate embrace. ..... Uther moves behind her, tenderly untangling her hair, as he whispers - Ess, ess, ess . She tears into the naked deltoid, ripping off huge strips of flesh. The poor, young man thrashes helplessly, but it does no good... Born for a zombie's dinner.

Such is fate...

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OPAL GETS BURIED and UBER ZOMBIE, UTHER aus ULM is there fir her RESURRECTION ... 5/2/14

Just over the concrete lip of the parking lot, away from the entrances on the road is the forest primeval. A dense patch of mixed-breed oaks, scrub pines, thick bushy ground cover and botanical species yet unnamed. Spiders dance on tightropes. Rodents dash about like pixies. Deer observe in the deepest shadows and fifty pound bobcats slaughter everything. Some claim grey wolves, or more likely wolf-coyote hybrids hunt there too. But canines never tell. Like ghosts they are. Even the real ghosts say so.

Ralphie and Ezekiel drag Opal along an ancient, narrow path made by deer, or perhaps they just commandeered it after the 'Indians' left?... A smooth, winding, beaten dirt path. Her head sticks out of the big, black, plastic 'lawn' bag, bouncing to and 'fro, as they pull from the scrunched up shoulders. Is she conscious? Just barely. They bit her up real good. She groans a bit. Ralphie whispers - Aw, no fuss. Come on. You're just getting a make-over.... Ezekiel never talks at times like this. He just does what he does and moves things along.

They grave's already been dug. Made a drifter do it a while back. Had a feeling somebody good would come along. At first they were gonna zombie-ize him. But Ezekiel didn't like his looks. Said he had the wrong aesthetic. Zombies, at least high caste, non-decomposing zombies often have a 'look,'... thin, austere and hungry. Some shave their heads. They like the feel of it. So much cleaner when they dig into a soon to be corpse and tear away. Bald like vultures. It just makes sense.

The drifter screamed when he learned what they were. Even the night birds jumped. He didn't believe it at first. Told them to go to hell. He knew he was a drunk. Hallucinations are hallucinations, right? And the woods beyond the mall parking lot were so dark and cool and quiet. So he dug. Maybe there was treasure down there? Maybe it was all a joke? Maybe they were from the TV? You know, they got little tiny cameras that can shoot in the dark, right? But on television some goof always jumps out at the last minute , says it's 'candid camera' and gives you like a gift card for Lowes, or a lifetime pass to Golden Corral. I think they let you eat somewhere else on holidays, though. Only make you eat there regular days.... 

Drifter said - What kind a crap is this? There ain't no treasure down here. Gimme your hand, you God damned weird bastid and pull me up..... But Ralphie hopped down instead, grinned at him (starlight gilds everything) and bit right through his dirty sweatshirt, excising his left pectoral muscle (such as it was) and a little bit of the gristle where it meets the breast bone. Suddenly treasure wasn't much of a priority. Rubbery, ripping sound wiped it right out a his head. Fell to his knees. Clutched his chest and rasped - Oh, Mommy. Oh, Mommy, Oh, Mommy..... Then Ezekiel jumped down too. Fifteen heartbeats later drifter guy was one stripped raw carcass. Drumsticks went first. Then the wings... the surviving breast... the tushie... the offal... No, wait. I forgot his wee-wee and his wee-wee's best friend and the part of him that had that tattoo...then the offal. Heart and lungs went last, after they denuded his skull...  Peeled it clean. Just like eating fruit wraps. What was left of him whimpered like a kitten. Didn't so much 'die,' as just drifted away. Furry, little woodland creatures made off with the bones. They were so happy.

Dropped Opal in the same pit. Tore the bag off first. Chomped off little gobbets of flesh to stimulate blood flow. Zombie making microbes need wounds in order to enter. The more the merrier. Plus they enable the victim to absorb oxygen while buried.

She barely knew what happened. Opal, I mean. One minute she's sucking in chill, night air. Next she's rocked in the bosom of Mother Earth, all cool and fresh and wormy. Then she feels the weight. Not all-over pressure like people feel when they're suddenly inundated by a tsunami. This is different. Just weight... a solid, pressing weight. That woke her up. Tried to scream. Couldn't scream. Couldn't even open her mouth. Sealed shut tight. Just like a piece of banana in a Jello mold. Tried to dig. Couldn't move her fingers. Rocked back and forth, incrementally enlarging the cavity occupied by her body. Then she could dig a little. Heart pounding. Dig some more.  No thought. No nothing. Just do it. Do it. Do it. Blood throbbed from her fingers til the sharp, little points of her bones poked through. And the abrasive action of wet, heavy, pebble-filled soil scrapped what little meat she had right off her rib cage. 

While up above, Ralphie and Ezekiel waited. They knew how to make a high caste zombie. Might not be pleasant, but it'd work. Done it before in other places, down in Zombieland, the Gulf Coast bayous of Cajun territory. That's where they first met Uther... Uther aus Ulm. Read what we posted last time, if you want to learn about him. Ought to be here soon. Can't trust no zombie, though. Most a them don't wear no watches. Not like they punch a clock, or nothing.

Lemme stop now. All this talk 'bout blood, meat and bones make me hungry. I gotta go in the kitchen...

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DER 800 JAHR ALT FLEISCH ESSER (zombie) UTHER aus ULM Comes to Town... 4/30/14

Let me tell you something about our visitor. Zombies rarely survive more than four hundred years. They're not like vampires. There's little real magic involved. Such beings are not paranormal. They're just special. But a few are extra special and Uther aus Ulm is one of those. In case you don't know, his name is pronounced OO-ther and tonight's title means - The 800 Year Old Flesh (actually 'meat' but, you know) Eater, Uther from Ulm. He's legendary among zombies. Not those cheap models who shamble around and fall apart. Uther belongs to a somewhat higher caste (as does Ralphie and Ezekiel and all them). His kind regenerates. Rotted flesh, gristle and extremities quickly fill in and grow back. 

Scientists who've studied the phenomenon believe a certain microscopic nematode acquired along with other dirty- little-soil-cooties (their taxonic term) combine to form a heady cocktail transforming most surviving premature burial victims into, well... 'zombies.' .... And now he's here... Uther, I mean. Actually, he's more than eight hundred years old. That's when the 'zombie' thing started, way back in the year 1214.... before the Magna Carta... before the travels of Marco Polo, who was not the first to visit exotic realms. He just got good press.

Meant to be a squire he was. Promised to a lesser, though rich nobleman down the river, toward Bavaria. Ritter this, or Ritter that. What difference does it make? But he ran away, Uther, I mean, to join the monks. For he craved knowledge more than battle. Though after acquiring enough of that was not adverse to a bit of empire building of his own. They had to pay recompense to the Ritter and give him another son. Uther's family, I mean. The younger boy grew to be an acceptable, if uninspired knight and did manage to carve out holdings near Sant Jean d'Acre toward Galilee during some Crusade or another. Jewelbox of a castle they had. Done up in the latest Levantine manner... mosaics, fountains, central atriums.... Rather like the commodious villas of the House ben Macabi (the vampire Jonathon's people) in Al Andalus. But that's another story. 

The monks taught Uther geography and theology. But he cared more for mercantile practice than devine.  And soon, with the help of a cabochon sapphire or two given him by a young prioress (who was also an heiress) in return for evening dalliances, he invested in a ship bound for England and the fabled fleece (wool) markets of  the place.  Not only did he back the enterprise. He sailed with it too. And on a fine April day in the sixteenth year of the life of Frederick the Second, son of Barbarossa and claimant to what was still just unofficially known as The Holy Roman Empire, set sail from a little known Piedmontese port. 

Thus a stalwart young man, not yet bound by vows... a lay brother with a rapidly filling in sandy tonsure crossed the western Mediterranean on a seventy foot long 'Cog.' Imagine a one mast, primitive cousin to Cristobal Colon's (Christopher Columbus's) lesser ships and you'll see what we mean. Fourteen men embarked. One hand proved to be a maid fleeing an arranged marriage. But that was common. They survived on thick, bland crackers, dried meat, water and wine, plus whatever might be available along the way. There might have been barrels of pickled cabbage too. And a semi-enclosed, crude shelter under the aft deck was all they had.

At this point you must know that 'zombie mongers' were abroad in the world snatching victims for flesh-eating clans eager to grow and expand. Uther aus Ulm would fetch a fine price, indeed.

Thus were Fleisch Esseren 'born.'

And now, many centuries later, perhaps Uther has plans for Opal too?

(more tomorrow)
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WHAT THE ZOMBIES DO TO OPAL & WHAT SOPHIE AND SYBIL HEAR UNDER THE FLOOR... 4/28/14

(note - stories are serial in form... click back to OLDER POSTS if you like forgot, or never knew what happened)

OK, now here goes ~~~~~~~~

Sophie and Sybil heard the scream. Sophie whispers - That was Opal. I know it..... Sybil just nods. She nods a lot. You know those nice, little, ten year old, fairy-princess, London girls who dropped out of second grade (they been doing this a while) to become disciples of Ellen and talk real fast and jump up and down on her show? ... Well, Sybil'd be the second banana. She'd be the 'Rosie' one. ... So they stand there, still as statues, trying to hear it again. But, under the floor, Ralphie sniffs. He's real good at smelling humans. Ezekiel sniffs too. Zombies possess an extremely well developed sense of smell. They can pick out a stray human at least a half mile off over cold, frozen tundra... chocolate bars too, only they don't eat them. They use them to lure lost, little children. 

Down below, Ralphie gestures. Ezekiel silently kneels beside Opal, slapping his cold, clammy hand across her mouth. He leans close and whispers - You so much as fart and I'll suck your eyes out..... She cooperates. Ralphie quietly unplugs a cheap string of pastel, Easter 'Christmas' lights (their only illumination) pilfered from the dollar store, lest an errant photon escapes.... And they wait... silent as a tomb. After perhaps a few dozen heartbeats, Sybil shifts position, standing right on top of the galvanized, tan painted trap door. It's locked. It's bolted from below. They can't open it. But she absentmindedly rocks back and forth, sending metallic echos down into the lair. Opal tenses. Her nostrils flare. Ezekiel wants to choke the girl with his other hand, however, Ralphie admonishes her with a raised finger. She exhales and relaxes, if that's the right word. ..... Ezekiel whispers - Oooh, warm... in anticipation of the small meal to come.... 

After a time the would-be zombie hunters depart. You'd think they might have detected the charnel house stench wafting up from what was left of Gary. But it's colder down below than it is up above. Provided pressures are equal, air tends to flow hot to cold. Or at least in this universe it does. Ezekiel kisses Opals quivering closed eyelids. He says - No noise...... Then he lets go of her mouth. She gasps . She coughs. Ezekiel slaps his hand back where it was, glares at Ralphie and goes - The Krazy Glue! Give me the Krazy Glue!.. He finds it mixed in with a lot of crap kept in a junk box under a table.  She whimpers as Ezekiel runs a thin bead of the strong mastic between her lips and pinches them shut. Ten heartbeats later, they're sealed. Lucky she's not a mouth breather. But she chirps like a scared, little bird, wide eyed and trembling, as the two flesh eaters remove her clothes and score her body with tiny, sharp bites, creating wounds for the microbial lifeforms to enter. Then they put her in a big, black, plastic lawn bag. Not her head, though. Don't want her to suffocate. Gotta be buried alive. Gotta live through it all. Dig her way out. Oh, it might take a while, no matter how much she panics. And not 'can't find your car clicker' panic. This will be a deep, real, soul shaking visceral terror... beyond words... beyond comprehension. That's why all zombies are crazy. Some vampires might understand... a little bit anyway. But they don't really need the oxygen, while zombies most definitely do.... Still, some, little prion or virus mixed in with those microbes will take care of that, preserving her life and oxygenating her blood til she makes it to the surface.... up to a point, because a certain number never break through. And after a while the life force fades leaving spent bodies hanging in the soil like newly minted fossils. 

Gary, on the other hand, will need a lot more work. His 'leavings' are a bit iffy... Zombie, or fertilizer? Hard to tell.

So the two ghoulish fiends carefully unlocked the galvanized trapdoor, checked for witnesses (Sophie and Sybil were apparently holed up somewhere else), manhandled a limp Opal up through the opening and laid her on the floor. Then they locked up and dragged her (plastic bag helped) to a nearby, half hidden door. Ezekiel had the key. No electronic lock here. This one's off the grid.

Woods come closer to the mall at that point, so they dragged her over the blacktop and disappeared into the trees.  Opal knew what to expect.

She's gonna be buried alive......

(more tomorrow)

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