Ozzy and Aron continued to walk down the dimly lit streets, looking out for any
more monsters and hoping to find more survivors. Before long, they found the
former.
"Shh," Ozzy shushed Aron as they discussed where they should go next, "Did
you hear that?"
The two boys were standing on a street corner that had one dim streetlight that
failed to share its light with the dark alley across the street. From the alley there
came the sound of movement. Lots of movement. Dry rustling with occasional
wet squishing. The young men raised their weapons and Aron used his newly
gained powers to grow sharp claws from his hands. Ozzy instinctively growled
at the unknown noises and his fur bristled.
From out of the alleyway there appeared a group of bodies; former humans in
ripped clothes with decaying flesh. There were at least ten or twelve of the
creatures walking slowly and steadily towards the two, groaning in a gutteral cry
of death.
The zombies inched their way to the center of the intersection, then suddenly
stopped. They just stood there in the middle of the road, looking at the two
armed college students.
"What do you think their doing?" Aron asked.
"I don't know," Ozzy replied, "But don't they look familiar?"
Those zombies that weren't too badly rotten seemed very familiar to Ozzy, but
he couldn't place it. Aron agreed and pointed to one on the right.
"Isn't that Cory Stevenson?"
"You mean that guy in the drama department who acts so gay he makes you
seem straight?"
"Uncalled for! And yes."
"If he were still alive I bet he'd be freaking out at all that rotten skin. You know,
now that I look, they're all kids from our school. I've seen them all in plays or
concerts or...wait a minute."
"What?" Aron asked.
"If they're all zombies...and they're all into dancing and singing and stuff...you
don't think they'd..."
"You don't mean...no...even they aren't that cliche. I mean, come on thay can't
even..."
The two guys stared at each other, then back to the zombies. The undead were
slowly moving to each side and a figure was slowly walking to the front.
"If they do it, I will kill them," Ozzy promised.
Finally, the last zombies moved aside to reveal a figure dressed in a completely
red outfit with a black V that went from waist to shoulders. The apparent leader
stood in front of the others and faced Ozzy and Aron.
Suddenly, from nowhere, a trumpet blared with an unmistakable intro
accompanied by an unseen band. The lead zombie began dancing quite fluidly
for a corpse and the others followed. Ozzy growled again.
"I fucking hate Thriller remakes!" he roared and took aim at the dancing
zombies.
"Dude! That's really Micheal Jackson!" Aron said, excited to see the dead King
of Pop whom he was a huge fan of.
"I don't care! I'm blowing their brains out anyway!"
Ozzy fired at Micheal and blew a gaping hole it the front of the singer's face.
"You just shot Micheal Jackson!"
"Yeah?"
"He wasn't even attacking you!"
"So?"
"And you're wasting bullets!"
"Huh, so I am."
Ozzy tucked the handgun back into his pocket and rushed forward with the
metal pipe. With the added energy of his hate for overused memes, Ozzy made
quick work of the zombies and soon left a pile of dead bodies in the road.
"I can't believe Micheal Jackson died...again," Aron shook his head and
followed the now-satisfied werewolf.
AN: I know, I'm a dick.