Get Zombie: 8-Book Set (32 page)

Below is an
example of an actual scam agency:

At Zombie Tsunami we
are a team of scientists, rabbis, and kindergarten teachers devoted
in turning you – that’s right, YOU – into a zombie.
For a small fee of only $2,ooo.oo (Canadian), you too can live that
dream of becoming a member of the living dead. It’s fast, easy,
and best of all, Painless! (not painless).

But what kind of
zombie will you be? A strong zombie? Maybe a hip zombie? Or how about
a whore zombie? If you act fast, you can even be a fag zombie, a
straight zombie, a zombie fetus, a running zombie, a racecar-driving
zombie, a crazy zombie, a zombie-fell-into-the-dryer zombie, an over
compulsive zombie, an over compulsive zombie, an over compulsive
zombie, a gerbil zombie, a (O_O) zombie, a sleeping zombie, sad
zombie, a mad zombie, a glad zombie, a crying zombie, a stink zombie,
a limbless zombie, a standing zombie, a contemplating zombie, a porn
zombie, a prone zombie – you can even be a shy zombie. Awww,
cute! If you do not see a personality that you like, you can even get
one custom made.

The first 3oo members
get a free tote bag of beef! As you can see, the possibilities are
endless. So don’t delay, decay today!

Zombie Tsunami, where
your worst nightmares become your best dreams. Yay Zombies! ^_^

DISCLAIMER: All
future “zombies” become the sole property of Zombie
Tsunami; creators/shareholders shall use and/or abuse “properties”
in anyway they deem appropriate: legally, illegally, and sexually.

ZOMBIE RECIPES

Undead
Powerballs

INGREDIENTS:

5 pounds lean ground
zombie beef (or cow beef)

3 tablespoons ground
oregano

3 tablespoons dried
parsley, crushed

2 clove garlic,
chopped

1 (1 ounce) package
dry onion soup mix

3 cups dry bread
crumbs

3 (28 ounce) jars of
zombie sauce (or 3 jars spaghetti sauce)

DIRECTIONS:

1. Preheat oven to
350 degrees F. Flippantly grease a 10x15 inch pan.

2. In a hefty mixing
bowl, unite zombie beef, oregano, parsley and garlic. Mix in onion
soup mix and seasoned breadcrumbs. Mix methodically.

3. Using a 1-ounce
scoop, shovel and shape the meat concoction into balls. Place balls
in the prepared pan and bake in a preheated oven for an hour. Balls
should be browned and fit for human consumption.

4. In a fat pot over
high heat, bring the spaghetti sauce to a simmer and add cooked
meatballs. Reduce heat and simmer for some time.

Tongue
Chili

INGREDIENTS:

2 pounds of zombie
tongue (or lean ground beef)

1 onion, chopped

2 red bell peppers,
seeded and diced

2 jalapeno peppers,
seeded and diced

4 cloves garlic,
minced

1/2 cup chili powder

1 teaspoon salt

1 (6 ounce) can
tomato paste

1 (14.5 ounce) can
Italian-style stewed tomatoes

1 (7 ounce) can
chipotle peppers in adobo sauce

1 quart water,
divided

1/4 cup all-purpose
flour

1 tablespoon rice
vinegar

DIRECTIONS:

1. In a great pot
over medium-high heat, cook tongues until they turn brown. Drain and
return to your big pot. Mix in onions, bell peppers and jalapenos.
Cook until tender. Throw in garlic and cook for 1 minute more. Season
with chili powder, salt and pepper. Stir in the tomato paste.

2. In a blender,
puree the tomatoes with the peppers until very smooth. Stir this into
the pot with 3 cups of water.

3. Mix the left over
1-cup water with the flour in a container and shake to come together.
Discharge this into your chili and swirl in the vinegar. Cook about
45 minutes before serving.

Night
of The Living Noodles

INGREDIENTS:

1 pound ground zombie
beef (or cow beef)

1 package Oriental
flavored ramen noodles

14.5 ounce diced
tomatoes

10 ounce whole kernel
corn

DIRECTIONS:

1. Warm a large
skillet on medium-high heat. Crumble in the ground zombie and cook
until no longer pink, remembering to stir frequently. TIP: Drain off
the grease.

2. Blend in the
flavor package from the noodles. Mix with tomatoes and corn. Smash up
the noodles and add them to the warm skillet. Bring to a boil for 1
minute, then simmer for 10 minutes until noodles are tender. Stir
irregularly.

Brainloaf

INGREDIENTS

1 1/2 pounds ground
zombie brain (or cow beef)

1 egg

1 cup sour cream

2 tablespoons
Worcestershire sauce

1 (1 ounce) package
dry onion soup mix

1/2 cup grated
Parmesan cheese

1 1/2 cups
Italian-style dried bread crumbs

DIRECTIONS:

1. Preheat oven to
375 degrees F.

2. Combine the brain,
egg, sour cream, and Worcestershire sauce into a large bowl. Blend in
soup mix, your cheese, and breadcrumbs. Shape concoction into a loaf
and situate in a 9x5 inch loaf pan. Now cover it up with foil.

3. Bake this at 375
degrees F for 45 minutes. Eradicate foil and maintain baking for an
additional 10 to 15 minutes. Let stand 5 to 15 minutes.

Eggplant
Super Soup

INGREDIENTS:

1 tablespoon
vegetable oil

1 medium onion,
chopped

1 pound ground zombie
(or cow beef)

1 pound eggplant,
diced

3/4 cup sliced celery

2 cans Italian diced
tomatoes, drained

2 (14 ounce) cans
beef broth

1 teaspoon sugar

1 teaspoon ground
black pepper

1 cup dried out
macaroni

1/2 cup grated
Parmesan cheese

DIRECTIONS:

1. Warm up oil in
skillet on medium heat. Cook onion, zombie meat, and garlic until
meat is uniformly brown. Now drain the grease and blend in eggplant,
celery, and tomatoes. Transfer in the beef broth. Mix in sugar and
preferred seasonings. Heat and stir until cooked through.

2. Add macaroni into
the soup. Maintain cooking for 12-15 minutes. Add in parsley. Top
with Parmesan cheese. Serve.

Retirement

In your coming years,
you would have made enough from hunting zombies and selling them to
retire. It is important in your old age to keep active and healthy.
Exercise more often – lift weights, throw things, drink more
water. There are numerous activities suitable for the elderly person,
such as archery, slow bicycle riding, Taiko Drums, bowling, darts,
pottery, poetry, kung fu, wrestling, swimming, quilt-making, nude
modeling, bird watching, child watching, dog cleaning, cat raising,
model making, drawing, dowsing, dreaming, telling stories, and of
course, witchcraft.

When the elderly
person looks in the bathroom mirror at night, they may think about
dying.

Although one should
not fear death, the elderly person can prepare himself or herself by
coming to terms with it. Now is the time to cry. Set a special time
and place, preferably at night. Try crying into a pillow and then
punching the pillow – odds are you will feel much better and
will be ready to die.

If possible, have
friends and family watch you as you cry. Ask them to cry with you,
that it is better to just get it all out now before the time comes.
Explain that because when you do die – and you will – you
want it to be a happy time. You want kids to giggle and parents to
giggle with them and ride swings and then jump off the swings because
it feels like you’re flying.

Retirement does not
have to be boring or scary. If you have a hobby, and have friends and
family surrounding you and following you at all times, retirement can
be quite the blessing, indeed.

This is your time now.

You are peaking.

Job well done.

Filipino Vampire

ONE

Filipino
vampires just want to eat babies and kids. Yeah, they can go for
adult meat too, but baby/infant/kid meat is fresher...cleaner. Four
out of five vampires agree: “Young, tender meat is just less
polluted.” Filipinos, like my mum, love to call them
vampires
,
but let me tell you, they're really witches. But I can see how some
may see them as vampires: they like sipping-drinking-gurgling blood
and they fly around and would rather do things at night. BUT, like a
witch...Filipino vampires can walk around in the daytime to do chores
and whatnot like everyone else. They just look weird, like they need
more sleep. Vampire. Witch. Both are interchangeable here.

“Aswang!”

If
you were in some village in the Philippines, that's what you'd most
likely hear at one in the morning. Someone's always wanting
attention. No one says, “Filipino vampire” there. They
say, “Aswang”. Pronounced
Us-wong
.

The
thing that always scared me about the aswang was the idea of it
detaching at the damn hip and flying around like some kind of
perverted torso – hungry, drooling, eyes searching, muscles
twitching; in general, way too excited. The legs would stand in the
woods. That was one way to kill an aswang: Murder the legs. Some
aswangs flew around with their guts hanging out. So if you ever see a
woman's torso sauntering through the breeze with its intestines
dangling, just know to bring your hands up and slowly back away.

My
mother always told me stories to set me right. (Isn't that always the
case with dumb parents? “Let's not talk to our kids, let's
scare the bejesus out of them with talk of ghouls and ghosts.”)
My mum's stories all took place
back home
and involved
pregnant teens too stupid – Mum says – to not wait until
marriage to get their groove on. She felt no pity for these dead
kids. THAT horrified me more than the monsters in her stories. The
look on her face when she spoke about these “dead kids”
was always...so...d-e-a-d. She really didn't give a damn. One time,
she shrugged and looked up and applauded, saying, “Good job,
dead kids! Couldn't wait until marriage to have your cooters poked,
eh? Now look at ya. All dead and shit. Job well done.”

At
least fifty times a year, she said that if I misbehaved, she would
tie me to the roof so the aswang could eat me...teach me a lesson.
Tough love. Tough parenting. I guess she was trying to man me up.
Make my skin thick to protect me from the knives of the world. But
come on – telling me stories about
monsters
? And this
was in Hawaii. America. In 1992. A year I should have remembered for
MTV, shoes that pump up, dangerous Hawaiian gangs, and
Parker
Lewis Can't Lose. N
ot for monsters. (The other Filipino beast
she used to make me oops-I-pooped-my-pants involved your
twin
that
lived
in the
trees
, and if you took a piss on that
tree, your twin would jump down and straight up murder you and do
unspeakable things to your corpse. Gadzooks! But that's for another
story.)

1992.

That
was the year I decided that I wished my mother dead. Twelve years old
and filled with hate against the woman who gave birth to me. Guilt,
guilt, guilt. I'd wake up in the middle of the night, crying and
whatnot, at the same time hating and loving my mum. What to do? How
to FEEL? No kid likes being hit, but imagine being told that a
monster was going to eat you because you did something “bad”,
like not eating all your food? Sometimes she would beat me with a
bamboo broom. It was amazing. My own mother abused me. I felt like
some crook that tried to steal her purse. I was her daughter. Her
flesh and blood. This was how she was disciplined back in her
birthplace, back in Cebu, in the Philippines. So I guess it was just
a matter of rinse & repeat. I just believed it was the same the
world over. All parents hit their kids, right? All mums and dads hate
their kids. Hate'em for stealing their dreams. Humans with little
dicks (or little boobs) and big tempers going all out on their
kids.... I decided that wouldn't be me. And if my husband got nuts on
our younglings, I'd rip his eyes out and pretty much use his skull as
a toilet. I'm just sayin'.

With
Mum...not much I could do. She was bigger, stronger, and I HAD to
listen. That's what kids do, because the bible tells me so.

That
night on the roof, though, was the last straw. There I was, all tied
up against this long, cold television antenna, shivering, on the
verge of vomiting, while Mum watched The Filipino Channel in that
warm living room. I couldn't scream for help. She would have felt
guilty
. God knows what that woman would have done
then
.
And I didn't fight back when she was tying me up. As a little kid, my
mum stood tall like a giant. Any fussing, and she could pick me up
and toss me into traffic. I really had no IDEA what this woman was
going to do next when it came to “disciplining” me.
Better the roof. Better tied to that antenna, waiting for the aswang
to come and teach me a lesson in manners. So says Mum. And what
was
the lesson? Eat everything off your plate? Good deal. Makes sense.
Don't finish your plate? DIE!

Now
you may be thinking, “Why didn't your dad stop her?”

Dad?
WHAT dad? That loser ran away when I was born. The end. Moving on.

I
pissed all over my bare feet that night, half of me doing it to keep
warm. What would happen if the next morning she came up to check on
me and I were dead? What if she
really did
see an aswang with
my head in its mouth, with my face all confused and weeping, my eyes
rolling round and round like a cartoon character? What then? Did she
really believe in aswangs as much as I did? I wanted it to come and
get me. I wanted my mum to find me half dead. Maybe that would teach
HER a lesson in manners, ha ha ha.

The
next morning, she untied me.

She
said something to the effect of, “See? You're lucky you're a
good girl! Aswangs can smell bad girls. They fly down and eat them!”