Zombie Tails
I could just barely see over the next rise in the road…
…and hardly believed what my eyes beheld. Zombies!
Only this time it wasn’t just one or two, it was a whole herd of the stinking Beasties. Shriveled flesh with that monstrous odor and of course each one with their mouths agape, rows of still sharp teeth at the ready to tear through your own precious, tender body.
I was so taken aback by this scene, as though I were watching a herd of giraffe making its way through the center of towne, when behind me a shrill sound arose that set the hairs on the nape of my neck to rising.
I was aghast at this new sight, not ten geese a laying or whatever, but ten Beasties standing tall and about to pounce upon yours truly.
At that precise moment in time, Ro-Bear, oh Ro-Bear, leaped upon the back of the lead stinker, flinging it to the ground.
All well and good for that lost soul but of course there were the nine others directly behind it, already ripe to set upon poor Ro-Bear.
Just then I recovered my own singular composure and set upon the whole tribe of them, leaping from my slight vantage point that the rising road presented to me.
Whoosh!
Woosh!
I flung myself upon them with such vigor, producing violent streams of slimy, bodily fluids washing over my up till then, somewhat genteel and certainly less odiferous body. None the less, I was not shaken from my duties but strengthened with the resolve to rescue Ro-Bear, from the stinking mass of inhumanity, now lying all about him.
Thus began my introductory report to Selicia, Grand Marshal of Trutoria Margone, on The Isle of Nun.
When Synapses Go Bad 