Yes, mother

Life changed for us, after I became a zombie.

Mom tries to treat me the same, but— There’s really nothing I can do about the stench, for example. That’s just an unavoidable by-product of being undead.

Once pieces began falling off of me, she did her best to keep the loose bits re-animated. That cost her a lot more of her stash of precious zombie dust, as you can imagine. It always irritated her, whenever we went shopping and little bits of me kept struggling to catch up.

“Could you please pick up your feet when you walk?”

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“And stop snapping your gums.”

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3 thoughts on “Yes, mother”

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