Death, Dating, and Donuts
To be honest, I like being dead.
It took awhile for me to get to that point. I mean I ate my wife, my dog, and my son Georgie, who was only two years old. I hated myself, wanted to kill myself, but for some reason I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I wondered what that meant. Wondered if I was a bad person.
The stench of my rotting flesh was what helped to distract my mind from thinking of what I had done. But every time I opened the fridge, there she was: Julie, my wife. Leftovers.
The smell and taste of her flesh was exquisite. I couldn’t help myself. She tasted as sweet now as she had before. Her toes were the last of her. After that, she would be gone forever.
Tears turned into maddening laughter as I put her digits into my mouth. On top of everything else, now I was going insane. I took my 9mm beretta from the bedroom closet and put it to my head, but then I thought of getting into Heaven, and being with them again. If there was a heaven, I likely wasn’t getting in. And if I did, my family would probably not take me back. Would it even be considered suicide at this point?
I wasn’t a gun person, It was a gift from a buddy of mine, who had taken me too seriously when I told him over a course of a few beers that I needed one, in case of the “you know what” apocalypse. The irony; I couldn’t pull the trigger.
What kind of man was I? I ate my family and couldn’t pull the goddamn trigger. That must make me a bad person, right? A coward maybe? Or a monster. I was really starting to look the part.
I shambled the streets outside in hopes a sniper; defending his house, would put a bullet through my head. No luck, the living had moved on. All that was left of the neighborhood was us dead folks. We became a community. We held classes to help us walk normally again, to stop drooling blood on to ourselves and to stop moaning. There were speech classes to help us talk again.
We all went to church and prayed. If there was no more room in hell, maybe heaven would have us. I started a band, we all became vegetarians; not that we had much choice outside of the random stray cat. And I wasn’t going to eat a pussy, well not that kind anyway. I liked cats, but loved dogs. But I couldn’t take in another; the heartbreak after eating my mutt kept me sure of that. And I wouldn’t want to put another animal at risk.
When I met Mary, I fell hard- harder than the time I slipped on my own bile and hit the kitchen floor so hard my eye popped out of its socket.
Mary was beautiful, despite the nose thing-she didn’t have one.
We walked the dead walk and talked. I asked about her family. She had no child, just a husband. He’d wanted to stay, but after she bit an ear off, he bolted.
Mary and I enjoyed meeting up at Thelma’s diner. Thelma made the best cherry pie.
Once my eye popped out and fell into Mary’s coffee. She took my hand and we laughed. She told me after all that had happened, and with our current state of affairs, that we needed to laugh. We laughed a lot. I felt I was betraying my wife, but rationalized that this betrayal was probably small potatoes when compared to the fact that I ate her. I told Mary I was married, and that I had killed my family.
Mary said that we must forgive ourselves and move on. She believed that we had a purpose. “Why else,” she told me, “would god keep us on earth? Why didn’t he let us pass on?”
She took my hand and placed it to her bosom. I felt a flutter between my legs. Hadn’t felt that in a long time- didn’t know it was still possible. She must have felt something too, because her nipples hardened and pressed against her blouse.
We looked around the diner to see if anyone had noticed. We smiled to ourselves and then raced back to my place. Well not exactly raced, but hurried along as quickly as possible.
Anyhow, we must have been going at it pretty hard, because I broke off inside her ass.
I had been so excited when we made it into the bedroom I stuck it in the wrong hole. She told me to leave it there, so I did. Her ass was tight and gave my cock a bear hug. I thought I would explode as soon as I entered, but maybe it was a zombie thing. It was hard to cum, even when I felt her vagina pressing back and forth against my balls. I took advantage of it though, as before I was always pretty quick on the release. I fucked Mary’s ass for a good hour before it happened.
We were both scared at first, not saying anything to one another. She turned to me and we both stared down at my cock nub, below it my balls swung free as if they were released into the wild-no longer weighed down. Mary was the first to crack up. I don’t know why, but I followed.
She pulled what once was attached to me out of her ass and slapped me in the face with it. It was strange that I now had no self esteem about my size when being slapped with it. It carried weight and wished I had used it to slap with before- before when it was still attached. I told her this and we laughed even harder.
Our laughter gained the attention of the dead outside. No one knew why, but the hardest thing to kick was the constant gatherings in the streets, under the moonlight.
They came to the bedroom window and stared through. We gave ‘em a show.
She slapped me in the face with my cock again. We took turns slapping each other in the face with it. It was pretty kinky. We noticed the crowd outside, rubbing and jerking themselves off. I thought about inviting them inside, but Mary told me we should practice distancing.
We used my severed penis in ways I could never have used it before. Mary took my cock and stuck it up my ass-which made me question my sexuality.
She shoved it in and out, which made me bleed. She then took my cock out of my bloodied asshole and made a place for it in my sock drawer. It didn’t matter having blood on my socks, I was constantly peeing and shitting down my leg anyhow. Lots of people used diapers to remedy this issue, but fuck, I still wanted to hold on to some form of dignity. We bowed to the audience assembled outside, then shut the curtains.
Sunday morning came and we repented for our sins. The church coffee was good, donuts were even better…
I love donuts, especially the ones with sprinkles on top.