Zombie Girl

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like the jungles she had seen in the Yucatan, with the ceiling a leafy canopy, and the blinking eyes of animals in the lower branches. She knew all the guests by name, and what they liked, and what they drank. And she always knew just what to say and what not to say. It was a point of pride for her, knowing just how much to intrude on people's evening, and not a micron more. A club was not a factory or a cage. It was a place of refuge and restoration. Their souls had been placed in her hands. The vendors adored her, and the wait staff showed her every respect. Of course, none of this ever happened. Because she was a zombie and they say you can never put a zombie in charge of anything. No one knew she was the most beautiful girl who ever lived. They looked, and they judged, but they did not see. So the zombie girl worked below radar, in places that were official parts of the factory. A tea joint. A coffee shop. A building manager's office. A pizza shop. A saloon. She worked for tips, and kept the change in a box beneath her broken bed. Her most distressing experience was when she was lured into applying for a job at a restaurant opening up in St. Paul. It was a fancy place, with a great menu and a solid gimmick. It was called the Chatterbox Pub. She trained for almost a month before it opened, and she was very excited. She imagined herself doing very well, and perhaps getting benefits, and health insurance. But two days before the grand opening, she and a half dozen other trainees were dropped from the program. “Fire that girl when the shift is over, after I have left,” said the Evil Restauranteur. And it was done according to his will. 32
And the zombie girl went into a deep funk, knowing she could never have a nice job. The zombie girl believed it was her jet-black hair that tripped her up. She had dyed it black in order to fit in. And while her hair looked black, people would look at the zombie girl and somehow they knew it wanted to be fuchsia, and that her eyes glittered like spinning roulette wheels. She was a zombie, and there is a tradition that zombies are not allowed to live. 33
Page 3: A fable by Mike Finley Kraken Press
Page 9 and 10: Zombie Genetics The zombie girl's f
Page 11 and 12: and through. For her, there was no
Page 13: flying out of a hollow tree. It was
Page 16 and 17: The zombie girl frowned sympathetic
Page 19 and 20: Zombie Education The first day of k
Page 22 and 23: Zombie Psychoanalysis The Very Smar
Page 24: personality with a high IQ is a pre
Page 28: The Man Who Had No Brain to Begin W
Page 31: The zombie girl was better than mos
Page 36: much.” Another zombie friend said
Page 39: ented, the second disc of the third
Page 43: What would Zombie Girl say? • If
Page 46: the faint embedded spots - black on

Zombie Girl

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