Date of the Dead - Part Two

Part One

Date of the Dead - Part Two 

This is part two of Nightmare Threads original story that is a piece of fan fiction written about Peter Jackson's classic gorefest Braindead or Dead Alive depending on where you live. If you haven't seen it, do yourself a favor and go watch it right now, you won't regret it. This scene takes place when the Simian Ratticus first arrives at the Wellington Zoo and follows an unlucky zookeeper... 

 Date of the Dead - Part Two

      As he pressed the doorbell, Princess ran around the corner of the Veranda barking wildly at the Fergle. The door opened, and Cindy lunged on her date. She chattered something about being afraid he would not show and how long she worked on her hair before shooing Princess away. Actually, Fergle only heard half of it because as Cindy flung her arms around him, her bracelet got caught on his earlobe; tearing it off and leaving it hanging by a thread width of skin.

            “Now you just give me one more moment to ready myself, and we can be on our way,” announced Cindy, scurrying off to the toilet. Fergle stumbled to a mirror in the foyer. He looked like shit. And what’s that? His ear was right torn off. He plucked it off and was examining the artifact when his date emerged from the toilet. “Let’s go, my good sir.” Fergle nervously looked for a way to dispose of his unattached ear. Hastily he stuffed it into a crack in the drawer of an end table and clumsily slammed it shut with his remaining index finger still in the drawer. Fergle yanked his arm back, leaving the finger and a portion of the glove behind. Making sure he gave her the arm on the side that still had an ear, Fergle, or rather the remaining parts of Fergle lead his date to the door.

            “You know what? I am famished. Would you mind too terribly much if we were to get something to eat?” At the thought of food Fergle’s stomach loudly growled as he nodded in agreement to her suggestion. For the first time, he noticed just how good Cindy looked this evening. If he was tired before, his weariness had entirely abandoned him now. Cindy’s presence was simply intoxifying. In fact, she looked good enough to eat.

            “Have you ever been to the Wellington Arms? They have the most delicious soup?”


            “Oh you haven’t? It’s settled, then we must. Plus it’ll give me a chance to show off my new hair. Did I mention I was at the salon since early this morning?”

            They walked and as Cindy rattled on, Fergle forgot about only holding Cindy’s hand and thought about biting her lip, or her neck or just about any part of her. Normally he would have been red with shame about such thoughts, but his stomach growled in agreement with his baser inclinations. He wondered which part of her would be the tastiest. If the said restaurant had not been in the neighborhood, Fergle might have found out, but the sounds and smells coming from the restaurant distracted him as the host showed them to their table.

            After being seated and giving a thorough once over of her hair and makeup in the reflection in her spoon, Cindy looked up at the waiter, “We’ll each have a bowl of whatever soup you have for today. You must try it, my dear.” She also took the liberty of ordering the rest of the meal, not that the waiter would have gotten much more than an “Arrrgggh” out of Fergle.

            “Now just listen to me being a little chatterbox. I’ve been going a mile a minute since my place, and you haven’t said not one word. So why don’t you go ahead and tell me about your day?”

            “Arrrggh,” Fergle replied and shrugged.

            “You’re a man of few words. I find that appealing. I like the strong silent type. Somehow I knew that about you. That’s why I spent all day at the salon to try to look my best for you.” She gave her hair a flip and coyly winked at her companion. A considerable sized stream of drool was pouring from the corner of his mouth. “You have a little…,” she said motioning to the drool. “Oh look our soup,” she said seeking an exit from the awkward situation.

            “Be careful, it’s very hot,” the waiter warned.

            Cindy blew on a small sample and quickly spit it out after tasting it. “You weren’t kidding.”

            “No,” the waiter answered dryly as he walked away. “I wasn’t.”

            “Well now, you were just about to tell me about your day.”

            Instead of answering, Fergle picked up his bowl of soup, and before Cindy could protest, raised it to his lips and drained the bowl in one gulp. The heat of the soup and the rotting of his tongue caused his tongue to fuse to the top of his mouth immediately. Cindy let out a gasp which caused Fergle to chuckle and tear his welded tongue in half as it ripped from the roof of his mouth.

            “Oh my, I doubt you have any taste buds left after that, but it looks as though the waiter comes with our main course. Their rack of lamb is to die for.” Fergle quickly cleaned the bones on his plate of every last morsel of meat, before he greedily lunged at the portion still on Cindy’s plate. “And I do love a man who works up an appetite. I am trying to lose a little weight to go along with my new hairdo. Did I mention I spent the better part of the day preparing for our evening?”

            “Arrrrgh,” her date replied between mouthfuls.


      On their way home, Cindy didn’t notice her partner didn’t say much. Not that he would have been able to get much in between Cindy incessantly going on about her how she had been so excited for the date and how much time she had spent getting ready. However, she did notice that he stared at her the entire walk home. Maybe he was taking notice of her efforts. She could even swear she saw him licking his lips once or twice out of the corner of her eye.

      When they arrived at her front steps, Cindy took Fergle by the hand and turned to face him. This was the moment Fergle had waited his whole life. He was holding Cindy Williams’ hand. He had always imagined he would have butterflies in his stomach, but at the moment he only felt hunger pangs.

      “I had a wonderful time, Fergle,” Cindy said as she puckered her lips and closed her eyes.

      At least once a week, sometimes as many as three when he was going through puberty, Fergle would dream of the day Cindy’s lips would touch his. But now when his chance had finally arrived, another instinct took over, and has he bent in, he cocked his head sharply to the right and took a bite out of Cindy’s neck. Cindy’s reflexes reacted too quickly for Fergle to do much damage. Her hand shot out like a whip, and smacked him across the face, causing him to stumble backward, and soundly plopping on his rear.

      “Don’t you get fresh with me Fergle Johnson! I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am!” Cindy admonished as she stormed off, slamming the door behind her.

      Fergle sat defeated on Cindy’s front steps. He was more upset about the lost meal than he was about the ruined date. To add to his defeat, Princess came scurrying around the corner, yapping at full volume. She immediately ran to Fergle and started furiously tearing at his pant leg.

      Well, Fergle thought, maybe it’s not a complete bust, as he bent down to pick up his tasty tormentor.


            The door slammed. She must be home, thought Cindy’s mother. “How did it go?” she called out from the living room.

            “Alas,” sighed Cindy as she checked out her newly acquired hickey in the hall mirror, “I must continue on my quest and kiss more frogs.”

            “So he wasn’t up to the standards of my little princess?”

            “Lord no! Not once did he compliment me on my hair.”

            “The nerve of some men. It’s his loss,” assured her mother.

            Cindy didn’t dare let her mother see the bruise forming on her neck, so she went directly into the kitchen. Though she had just come from dinner, she headed straight for the refrigerator.  She was famished. 

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