"Charlie? Charlie, do ye heave an extra pair o' gleasses? I need em fer a cahstume fer Healloween."
Charles turned. "No, Pickles, I don't."
The redhead sighed softly, clearly disappointed. His eyes narrowed into slits. Apparently, he had really been counting on the glasses for his costume. But all he said was "Okee...".
Charles blinked owlishly and asked, "Anything else?"
Pickles shook his head and turned away. "No, nothing.", he added dryly and started to go out. Charles lowered his head into his hands and groaned softly.
"Well then, if its nothing, go. I've got work to do, Pickles. It needs to be done by tommorow morning, ten AM. It's two in the morning. Go. Shoo. I need privacy."
Pickles glowered at the older man for a second, but after awhile he went out and slammed the door behind himself.
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"Aw, shits! Dere's de foods Ah been savinks for Logans, Natens! Gives it overs, I'ms a throws it aways.", Toki sighed disappointedly. He had just found the bag of food for the stray Tabby he had taken in and named Logan. A testament to Toki's poor pet skills, Logan had died after several weeks, a personal record for the Norwegian. Now he had found the cats food, but obviously it was no use. He tossed the nearly full sack of kibble into the trash. Suddenly he missed Logan terribly. He wished he would've read that cat care manual now. His hand brushed over something in the garbage. He pulled it out. Face paint. Green face paint. Under different circumstances it might have seemed weird, but tomorrow was Halloween, after all. It still seemed strange.
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It was a monster. He could explain it no other way. Nathan roared, startled. A disgusting, festering corpse was standing before him, mouth contorted into a feral snarl. Nathan's face drained of all color. A low whimper escaped him. He had never felt so scared.... So.... weak. There was something familiar about the zombie, but he couldn't place it. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He shook his head and muttered under his breath, "This can't be happening...", fear radiating in his features.
The monster growled very convincingly. It took a lot to truly scare Nathan Explosion. Bloody, saggy, gaunt zombies that were dripping mold and pus on your bathroom floor and leering at you like they wanted to rip you to pieces were one of the few things that could. Ever since Oscar had read him the story about the Very Hungry Zombie, Nathan had been acutely and incurably terrified of anything that creeped, crawled or ate brains. Now that a zombie was before him, he found he couldn't think of a single thing he'd learned in the countless online role playing books or fantasy handbooks he had read out of what seemed to him dire necessity.
Actually, the fact that he remembered nothing in terms of zombie-annihilation was easily explained. He had always skipped those parts in the books. Now he was starting to regret it, and he hated Oscar with all his heart for introducing him to the Very Hungry Zombie.
This zombie looked Very Starving.
It stretched out a hand. Nathan's eyes widened. He inched back, nearly paralyzed with shock, and tripped on a bottle of Mr Clean & Febreze multi surface all-in-one cleaner. That did it. He fell on his ass hard, possibly breaking his ass, um, tailbone in the process. The monster was on him in seconds. Nasty, raunchy breath hit him. He growled and bucked against it, trying to throw it off, but not succeeding. Cold spit fell on his cheek and burned a path into his skin. Maybe it ate Perrier for breakfast, Nathan thought, but somehow the idea struck him as unlikely, absurd even. He was surprised he could still think rationally after being touched by acidic saliva out of the mouth of a zombie. But, as scientists say, there are exeptions to every rule. This rule needed no exeptions. When one is scared enough, one will regain rational thought. It's a simple process that can be abbreviated as self-preservation. Nathan was just too dumb (uninformed) to know that. The zombie snapped at his face. More spit landed on it. Blood started to trickle out where it burned his skin. For a second, Nathan lay there, convinced he was about to die.
