Clockwork Zombie (Super Shooter!)

Blarg! I'm dead!

Used to have this really child-like alarm clock, the buttons were a moon, star, cloud, it even had a built in alarm of old childrens songs. Despite it all, I still kind of like the thing, since it never once failed to wake me up when I set.

Yet now I have this very industrial alarm clock, battery backup, two alarms, custimizable snooze alarm, everything. Still I don't really like since it has an odd habit to never wake me up every now and then, even when I set both of the alarms. Seriously, double check that you set the alarm, just don't be suprised when it doesn't wake you up in moring. Yeah, since nothing is quite more fun than having part of your life ruined just because of something as simple as your alarm not going off.

Then off course, it could be my fault, I've been spending many a late night pondering over my brains latest idea for a good story; many people complain about thier muses not providing them with enough inspiration, mine refuses to shut up once it gets started. This fucking thought has been stuck in my head lately, and it is so not pretty, so for the santicity of you going to bed without nightmares I'm not going to share it. Needless to say, this is how my brain is deciding to deal with it; which is kind of ironic, since the idea that Zombie might be using my water bottle blasted that thought out and easily replaced it as one of the most horrific things currently on my mind.

You have to understand Zombie is called Zombie for a reason, he smells like rotting flesh (flaming rotting flesh, he smokes heavily), he shuffles around, mumbles inchoherantly on occasion, and doesn't move a whole lot from where he is; all he would have to do would be to start eating live flesh and he'd be perfect expamle of a zombie. I just find it weird, and strangely intriguing, to watch him. He's just such an odd version of human life, it's like everything he does is to steadily commit suicide in the slowest of ways. Anything living, or fresh, when it comes into his possesion is always allowed to have time to sit around and decay before he really bothers with whatever he might have. Zombie, just surrounds himself with half dead things, in such a non-macabre way; it's like watching death due it's slow creeping to the tune of some happy, sappy song. Zombie's entire purpose just seems to be to stay on the edge of death for as long a posible and to slowly inch further and further over the edge.

Yet in the end I just leave Zombie to rot, I curse our sole depend upon a ball of gass to determine our schedule, as I kick back and start up another round of Rip Slyme's "Super Shooter" from Gantz and just watch as life goes on by.