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Blamers.

a short zombie story.

by Alan Edwards

Copyright 2011 Alan Edwards

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There’s a lot to hate about the world today. I mean, between the lack of electricity, horrendous snarls of traffic from abandoned cars, the total absence of a friendly face, and hordes of disgusting rotting cannibalistic walking corpses - let’s face it, there isn’t much to be happy about. Unless you count being alive in the face of all this, which is sort of a mixed curse and a blessing when all is said and done.

But nevermind, that’s all neither here nor there. It’s a soul-crushing world to wake up to, sure, but human nature is human nature. So, in the face of all this mind-numbing, soul-zapping horror that has become our Way of Life here after Z-Day (or The Event, the Rising, Armageddon or Judgment Day or whatever term most floats your favorite waterborne recreational vehicle of choice), it ends up being the little things that bother me most of all. I mean, if the zombies and everything that is part-and-parcel of their presence are the mastiff-sized things that get to me, I still think it’s the gnats buzzing in my nose and my ears and in my mouth that get to me the most. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I may be alone in this, but I think it’s just Human Nature. And since you and I may be alone in this entire Eastern Seaboard, I don’t think I’m going to get much argument.

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