The Walking Deceased Page #2

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No, hell, no. Little silent monk

tried to take my arrows.

Hey, Chicago, man,

check under the pillows.

Keep your damn hands

in your Polly pockets.

Was it a pretty fruitful run?

Yeah. Figured it was only a matter of time

before one of these chicks get prego.

Well, she's barely 14,

and I'd rather screw a zombie

than any of you, so I think we're good.

Hey, y'all give any thoughts

on that farm idea?

- Rumor has it, ain't no walkers out there.

- Safe havens don't exist. They're mirages.

There's nothing pure left in this world.

- Also check the gennies!

- Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.

You're just upset about the Selena Gomez

cardboard cutout incident?

It was late. I was lonely.

It looked real. Drop it.

I, for one, think that we should go

to the farm, you know.

This place...

This place sucks,

and there could be some food there.

I, for one, could go

for a scenery change.

Only reason I ever came

to this mall was for Rico's, and...

now that it's gone,

ain't no reason to be here.

- Looks like it's up to you, chickenshit.

- Fine. Whatever.

I'm in, but we're goin' tomorrow.

I'm tired, and I want to sleep.

You just want

one more night with Selena.

Baby?

I'm home.

Carl?

Carl?

It's Daddy. I'm okay, son. How you been?

Anyone home?

Zombie!

Well, if anything was gonna

get you off the bottle, son,

it's a goddamn zombie apocalypse.

Daddy, I went to work with Mommy.

We hide there.

Love you. Miss you, Chrissy.

P.S. Sorry about your coma.

I struck out.

I gotta take a sh*t.

Damn, I wish I could still

ride my bike...

but nope. It's just me

and my floppy-ass feet.

'Sup, guys? Please don't follow me.

You'll blow up my spot.

Sh*t, they can't hear

my inner monologue.

No. Go away.

All they want to prove is that they're

changing for the better, but no sane person

will see it that way,

not while they're in a huge mob.

Nope. No. No, no, no, no, no, no.

Damn it, stay back. This is not a party.

Please stop following me.

You're just gonna be

a massive dead cock-block.

Main stage costs canned goods.

Champagne room is a handgun, minimum.

There's no sex in the champagne room.

All right,

so what's it gonna be, a**hole?

- Dad?

- Carl?

- Who?

- Put the gun down, son.

- You're alive.

- Yeah, I'm alive. I'm alive, Carl.

Carl.

Sorry I batted you into a coma.

It's okay. Just gotta choke up

on the bat next time, all right?

Actually, I used that bat to kill my first

zombie. Remember my girlfriend, Kayla?

Girlfriend? I remember you

playing dolls with her and stuff,

but you didn't finger her

or anything, did you?

She's headless now.

Grown up a lot since then.

- Obviously you have.

- I'm a small business owner now.

That dipshit manager, Scott, was dead

when Mom and I got here a month ago,

but I figured people still need

entertainment... so I kept it open.

Found a generator in the storage closet,

so we have power.

I mean, it's a little dirty, but brains

are a pain in the ass to scrub.

I gotta hand it to you, Carl.

This is one hell of a business. I mean...

hey, look at that chick on the pole, man.

I think she's got eyes for me.

I'm proud of you, Carl.

Who? Wait.

You had another son from this?

No, no, I... it's this coma thing.

It must have messed me up.

Your mom, she... Oh, God.

- Didn't turn, did she?

- Hell, yeah, she turned.

She turned in new moves.

All right, watch this.

And now we welcome to the main stage

our only living girl!

Shut the hell up! How many times

do I have to tell you?

My beautiful mother... Barbie.

- I been waiting all day for this!

- Show us those living tits!

Hey, that's my wife!

Chris! Chris!

Hey! Freaking wanker!

Don't you get it? No touching!

Baby?

Darlin'!

What the hell? That was my last can

of beans, and all we get to do is watch?

- Baby. I'm so sorry.

- It's okay.

- I'm sorry I left you.

- I forgive you.

It was just overrun, that hospital.

We just had to barricade your door

and just pray you were gonna be okay.

- I'm okay!

- Praise the Lord!

Praise the Lord!

Bet that's the only time

that's been said from the pole.

Ed, you fat lard, get over to the bar,

and help yourself

- to a big fat bowl of shut the f*** up!

- Language, Chris!

Baby, we're way beyond language

being a problem here.

Is there going to be a show or what?

We've been waitin' hours to see her.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, guys!

Show is over, all right?

Now go find another place

to waste your life.

We'll just go back to the Winchester.

Their happy hour isn't complete shite

like this fine establishment!

Oh, no!

Oh, my God, honey. Stay with me.

Oh, not your boob!

There's gotta be something we can do!

Somebody do something!

God, I wasn't talking about that!

I was talking about

cutting her boob off!

Nobody pays top dollar

to see a one-boob stripper.

Oh, no, no!

No!

No!

It's the world we live in now.

Take a minute. Breathe deep.

I gotta go put out an ad

for a headliner with double Ds.

- Try Craigslist.

- Oh, yeah, and here's your Colt.

Didn't want some douche-bag doctor

stealing it whilst you were coma-ed out.

You're a good shot, son.

It's funny? I couldn't hit a ball off

a tee before the apocalypse, and now...

I can get a bullet between

the eyes like it's nothing.

It's f***ing hilarious!

Listen up.

I met these two guys at the hospital.

They're camped out at the mall.

Bald redneck and jumpy little sh*t

that shoots like a girl?

- Yeah, that's them.

- They came in here once.

Redneck was motorboating Mom,

so I kicked their asses out.

All right.

- We're gonna hit the mall then.

- You think this place can just run itself?

You're 12 years old. You shouldn't

even know about strip joints!

So now you want to be my dad!

Where you been when I needed you?

I was in a f***ing coma because of you!

- We're heading to the mall.

- Fine.

We'll load everything in my truck out back.

I could drive now. Tossed my V-card, too.

One for my homeboys.

Let's hit it.

All right, have a good watch.

Front entrance is clear, just some

kid zoms dragging Build-A-Bears.

I loved my Build-A-Bear.

He had a cape and a baseball cap.

His name was Super Shortstop, 'cause he

was like half the size of the other bears.

- Supes adorbs.

- How have you survived so long?

Don't fall asleep.

I want at least four hours.

Copy that.

- Enjoy your swimsuit edition.

- It's a hunting magazine, obviously.

There's dead deer and blood and guts

and fishhooks and manly stuff.

- All right, whatever you say, little b*tch.

- For the record, I hate that nickname.

So... close.

Almost there.

I can smell Abercrombie.

It's giving me a headache from here,

and my brain barely even works.

Oh, no, that's good.

Be my... be my valentine.

No, don't touch down there.

Don't touch. Not there! Stop.

Stop, stop, stop, stop.

I'm so sorry.

I'm gonna go do a round.

Sleep tight. I'll keep us safe.

Yes, sleep, child.

Now don't listen to Brooklyn.

"Spring Breakers" was amazing,

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