Zombie, and Other Assorted Un-dead Types

Written by By S. Joan Popek

Continued from page 1

“But they’re dead!” you say. Yes and no. Why do you think we call them un-dead? They’re walking aren’t they? Well really sort of shuffling, but they’re on two feet. And they talk or moan or groan or something alongrepparttar guttural lines. And they always know exactly whererepparttar 118303 people they are chasing are because they always show up no matter whererepparttar 118304 hero runs with his heroine. That means they have control of their faculties, right?

Speaking of control, have you ever noticed that zombies never need to go torepparttar 118305 bathroom? They devour entire human bodies, (using atrocious table manners, I might add) and drink gallons of human blood, but they never have to go. Why is that? Maybe kidneys of steel are a requirement to be in flick like this?

And their personal hygiene, UGGH! Matted hair, toothless mouths, grubby skin, and tattered clothes. Haven’t they ever heard of Colgate®? And they don’t care! They even sometimes have orgies around a bonfire and not a drop of water or a cake of soap anywhere in sight. Not even a single spray of Binaca®! What kind of logic is that? I wouldn’t think of attending an orgy without my breath mints–Ahem–er–uh–not that I’ve ever–ah–well anyway, back to zombies.

I think someone ought to setrepparttar 118306 movie industry straight. Un-dead creatures deserverepparttar 118307 same treatment as any other monster. Heck, even The Blob took an occasional dip inrepparttar 118308 river. And did you ever saw Dracula in a wrinkled suit? Get with it Hollywood. Clean up your act. Justa Rant, Jo

Copyright 2000 S. Joan Popek. Copyright on all material in this publication is held by S. Joan Popek. Any use without expressed written permission is strictly prohibited.

S. Joan Popek publishing accomplishments include the EPPIE 2000 Award winner, THE ADMINISTRATOR from The Fiction Works, SOUND THE RAM'S HORN, previously from Bookmice.com and soon available from Hard Shell Word Factory, and a nonfiction, JUMP START YOUR CAREER WITH ELECTRONIC PUBLISHERS, an EPPIE 2002 Finalist, is now available at Atlantic Bridge Publishing.


The Gambling Trip

Written by Chris Bradford & Brande McCreee

Continued from page 1
I hollered "CASH OUT!!!!!!" Weeell, that gave us a little money to keep gambling with. So we tookrepparttar money and started feeding it torepparttar 118302 slot machines again. Jane had hit pretty good a couple of times. But, after dinner luck just didn?t go our way. Barb was broke (except for $20 she had in her pocket that she was hiding from us). Jane had a bucket of coins, but Barb kept snatching handfuls. I was so broke I could barely pay attention . Oh, I nearly forgot to mention, and I don't remember in what order everything happened in, but we were walking thrurepparttar 118303 casino singing a lot ofrepparttar 118304 time and walking downrepparttar 118305 stairs in arm in arm and in unison kicking our legs out like showroom girls, and tossing paper airplanes aroundrepparttar 118306 casino. We leftrepparttar 118307 casino around 10 pm and decided to head to a place Barb had heard about. The only problem was. She knew it was in Kansas City, but didn?t know where! So we go for a bunny ride. After getting a real good tour ofrepparttar 118308 city, I finally gave in and stopped for directions. Beingrepparttar 118309 man that I am, I wasn?t about to go ask. So, Jane and I sent Barb in. This was sort of a seedy side of town, so we kept a close eye on her as she walked intorepparttar 118310 quick shop. Right before Barb walked outrepparttar 118311 door a young woman walks up torepparttar 118312 car. She said "She's in there asking my uncle bout how to get to this place and she ain?t understanding what he is saying cause he is talking fast.? (Barb walks up now.) This young woman continues (holding her brown paper bag with her bottle in it) "Y?all need to take your butt ... oh.. pardon my language... take your butt that way (pointing) on 9th Street, then turn left on whatever street, and then turn back on someother street". Then, she pauses, looks at us for a second, and says... "Oh!! You be looking for them frigging rich folks clubs!!! Don't get me wrong.. I like rich folks better than I do poor folks. A lot better!" She kept rambling on as Jane, Barb, and I started just cracking up. It was hilarious. Pretty soon her uncle came out ofrepparttar 118313 quick shop and told her to quit bothering these rich folks and ran her off. We followed Uncle's directions and pretty soon wound up inrepparttar 118314 area ofrepparttar 118315 "Rich Folks Clubs". Jane, Barb, and I walked around a little and tried to beg a slice of pizza off a policeman with no luck. We ended up in this country and western bar with a dance floor and a mechanical bull. We sat down a bit and had a drink or four and watchedrepparttar 118316 bull riders. Jane and Barb kept prodding me to try to riderepparttar 118317 bull. I made every excuse inrepparttar 118318 book, fromrepparttar 118319 fact that I only ride female cattle to my back was bad. But, finally, I gave in. I tromped up torepparttar 118320 guy operatingrepparttar 118321 thing and gave him my $5. I signed a waiver that basically said that if I am folded, stapled, or mutilated that I would not hold them responsible. After I put onrepparttar 118322 gloves, Jane told me I was only supposed to wear one glove. So, I took one off. I looked like a cross between Michael Jackson and Meatloaf. I walked out and climb on top of this bull.. and... Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell........ All I can say is that bull ride reminded me a lot of sex......... It lasted about two minutes before I was laying onrepparttar 118323 floor, breathing hard, and exhausted.

Chris Bradford and Brande McCree are the publishers of MLM Success Today, a weekly newsletter offering original articles written by its publishers for both the experienced and the beginner network marketer. http://www.mlmsuccesstoday.com/news/

    <Back to Page 1
ImproveHomeLife.com © 2005
Terms of Use