Terror on the Toilet: Horror and Humor Whilst About Your Business

Terror on the Toilet

Horror and Humor Whilst About Your Business

by Derek Elkins, Anthony Horvath,

Chris Morrow, Jamie Greening, & OJ Wolfsmasher

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright 2014 Each Respective, Author.

All Rights Reserved

Published by Bard and Book Publishing.

Website: www.bardandbook.com

Print ISBN 978-1-936830-63-3

Warning: Some of these stories contain subject matter unsuitable for readers under the age of 16. Reader Discretion is Advised.

Cover by Julius Broqueza.

Contents

The Driving Dead by Derek Elkins

Tastes Like Chicken by Anthony Horvath

Interview with the Bigfoot by Chris Morrow

Deep Cove by Jamie Greening

Pretty Much Just One Shade of Brown by OJ Wolfsmasher

Better Than Sex by Anthony Horvath

Among Wolves by Derek Elkins

Jolly Rogers: A Story About Boyhood by Jamie Greening

Zombiez! by OJ Wolfsmasher

Dinner for the Dead by Chris Morrow

Morbid by Jamie D. Greening

The Hanging Tree by Derek Elkins

Cerberus and the Hound of Heaven by Anthony Horvath

On April 3, 2021, I died. Gunshot to the head. Hurt for a minute until the blackness took over.

It was almost a relief really. I was in a customer service job and was about to kill myself anyway. If I had to listen to one more customer ask me the same inane question I had just answered to the past eighty people, it was gonna drive me right up the wall.

The day I died was roughly two weeks since the advent of the zombie apocalypse. No one knows exactly why it happened. Some say that the comet that passed close to the earth threw off some cosmic radiation that caused all the dead to rise from their graves and attack the living. I don’t think I buy that one. No, I think it was God. This wasn’t the first time He had grown tired of the human race, but maybe it was the last time. I mean, can you blame Him? What a bunch of idiots we turned out to be.

Anyway, back to me. So, here’s how it went down. I had stopped home from work at Wal-Mart ‘cause I needed some stuff. Mainly, I was looking for some crutches, as my phone at work had fallen off the desk and smacked my leg real good. There weren’t any doctors any more, so we had to take care of ourselves.

And I know what you’re thinking. If there’s no doctors, why are the Wal-Marts still open and why am I still working at my crappy customer service job? Okay, one complaint at a time. First, Wal-Marts are still open because there are still people alive: people who still need to eat and need to buy their toilet paper in bulk. Second, Customer Service jobs like mine are still in operation despite the zombie apocalypse because there are still jerks in the world who need someone to complain to. Satisfied?

Anyway, so I pull into the Wal-Mart parking lot, get out, which is extremely difficult with my hurt leg, and make it into the store without incident. No sooner had I gotten to the condiment aisle when I get squirted in the shirt with some ketchup from some stupid kid that was jacking around. I grab him and tell him that if there wasn’t a zombie apocalypse going on, I’d spank him right then and there, but he started crying so I let him go.

So, there I was, limping with a bad leg and ketchup all over my dress shirt. Nice. Well, I go down the pet aisle to get Mambo, that’s my cat, some food and there’s cat food all over the floor. I know there’s a crisis going on, but can’t we be a little more civilized and clean up after ourselves when we make a mess? Come on, people.

Of course, I wasn’t looking at where I was going or what I was doing ‘cause I just wanted to get home. I spent the whole day listening to person after person complain about how they couldn’t pay their bills because of the zombie apocalypse. And now I had ketchup all over my shirt. Needless to say, I slipped on the cat food, managed to smack my head on the shelf and bit my lip in the process. Well, that’s just great.

So, here I come, shuffling up the center aisle to the registers. I got a bum leg, ketchup all over my shirt, and this gash on my forehead. When I get up to the checkout, the lady’s looking at me really strange. I throw the cat food bag up on the counter and start to explain. I know I must look a mess.

Thorry mith. Dang, I forgot about my bit lip. I’th had a ruth day.

Well, no sooner than I got the first word out and she reached under the counter, yanks out this huge revolver and pegs me right in the head. Man, talk about a rotten day!

Next thing I know and I wake up in one of those big dumpsters around the back of Wal-Mart, with my body covered in banana peels and some kind of gross substance I can’t even imagine. I finally manage to get out of that dumpster after about forty minutes of rolling around like a complete idiot and make it back to the front of the store.

Of course it was closed now and I couldn’t get the cat food. Just my stinkin’ luck. Well, at least my car was still there. I made it to the car, but couldn’t open the door to save my life. Reaching in my pocket for the keys, I kinda knew what I’d find before I even got to the bottom of the pocket. Yep. They weren’t there. They must have fallen in the dumpster. Well, there was no way that I was gonna go back and fish for them.

I started walking and it took me forever. I felt like I was on an escalator running backwards. Funny thing, though. I don’t think I felt any pain from my leg or head anymore. I remember touching the tip of my tongue and recalling that it didn’t hurt at all either. At the time, I remember thinking that I must have slept off the pain.

Anyway, I was about a block away from my house and it was pitch black outside. And then, all of a sudden I heard the sound that you really don’t want to hear ever since the zombie badness kicked in. There was a low moaning noise coming from behind this beat up Ford Pinto I was passing.

I stopped, ‘cause, you know, the first tip in survival is to stay far away from the zombies. Yeah, they don’t move very fast, but if they catch you, they eat you. It was rough, but you get used to it after awhile.

I paused for a second ‘cause I couldn’t think of how I could get around this car and not alert the zombie to me. But they were slow. Maybe I could just dodge around them and run?

I started to edge toward the other side of the street when I saw it. I don’t know what it was now, but some time ago it used to be a thirty-year-old brunette. Not bad looking, either. Well, she would have been okay, if it weren’t for the fact that half of her face was pulverized away and the whole left side of her was blackened like someone had put a torch to her.

As soon as she caught sight of me, she lifted her head and started that moaning again. Man, I hate it when they do that. Drives me nuts.

Lady, I said, you sure got ugly.

That was what I was gonna say anyway, but as soon as I opened my mouth I heard this other moan come from somewhere close by. Crap! There must be more of them. That was it. I was out of there.

I put on a burst of speed and trucked on out of there. Funny thing is I certainly remember putting on a burst of speed, but the scenery didn’t exactly fly by, if you get my meaning. Oh well, must be still suffering from that bump on my head or whatever that cashier did to me.

I looked over by the Pinto and saw that it didn’t really matter anyway. The lady zombie wasn’t paying any attention to me. She had lowered her head and was eating something on the ground. I didn’t really want to know what, so I kept on walking.

I finally got to my house in time to realize that my house key was on my lost key chain with the car keys. Crud! Now what?

Ah, and then my memory flashed back. I always keep a spare key under the potted plant to the left of the front door. Getting the plant out of the way was the easy part. Picking the key up, however, soon proved to be more difficult. It was like my hands wouldn’t work at all. I tried to squeeze my fingers together but they wouldn’t cooperate.

Out of frustration, I screamed my head off. But, before I got going really good, there was that moan again. One of the zombies must have followed me.

Forget the key. I smashed the glass next to the front door in with my hand. Didn’t hurt though. I must have been running on pure adrenaline. I’d be feeling that one in the morning.

I didn’t know how I ended getting the door unlocked and inside with my stupid hand fumbling around, but I did. Relieved, I closed the door, attempted to lock it and ended up giving up after about five minutes. Maybe it was nerve damage.

I made it to the bathroom, looked into the mirror first thing and got the shock of my life. Man, there was ketchup all over my good dress shirt. How was I ever gonna get that stain out?

I looked up to check on the head scratch and there was a hole the size of a nickel in my forehead. What the heck? Must have been that goofy cashier. I put my finger up to touch it, sure it was some kind of paint, and my darn finger went right inside the hole.

Now, look, I’ve never been dead before so that kinda freaked me out. Quickly, I felt the back of my skull and came away with a handful of mess. It must have blown out the back of my head. Now how in the heck was I walking around with a big chunk of my head missing?

Then it hit me. I looked back into the mirror carefully. Yep. There was the deadpan expression, the slack jaw, the black circles around the eyes. That’s just great. That’s all I needed. I’d been zombified.

My cat, Mambo, sauntered into the bathroom, probably looking for the cat food I didn’t get from the store, took one look at me, hissed and ran for it.

Just seeing the cat reminded me of something. Holy crud, I was hungry. I took off out of that bathroom like a shuffling octogenarian in search of the morning newspaper.

* * * * * *

Okay, so I ate my cat. I don’t feel good about it, but that’s what I did. I was starving. At least it wasn’t a person. Well, it wasn’t a person for long.

I decided to leave my way of life and head on the road like the hobos of yore. Don’t get me wrong. I was really grateful to not be in customer service anymore. In that respect, being a zombie was awesome. You get to stay up all day and then stay up all night. No one to tell you what to do or where to go. You can eat anything that has a pulse, and sometimes not even that.

I just…it gets a little lonely sometimes. I mean, sure, I could hang out with the other zombies, but they don’t care about me. They’re just looking for their next meal. A one-track mind connected to an iron stomach.

I did teamed up with this other zombie named Frank. He was pretty cool. He had this big hole in his chest and you could actually see the food going in when he ate, but that was all part of Frank’s mystique.

Anyway, I’d been a zombie for a couple of days and man, was I stinking at it. First of all, where did all the people go? I couldn’t get a decent meal to save my life. And those cats were too darn quick. No dogs, though. Way too trusting of humans, I suppose.

Anyway, I eventually found my way back to that Wal-Mart and it was totally deserted. Not a soul in sight. I have no clue where they took off to. But I really wanted to find that cashier lady that popped me in the noggin. I really wanted to chew on her for a bit, but nobody was around. So, I spent about five hours digging through that dumpster looking for my keys.

Near the bottom right, inside an empty ravioli can I finally found them. I had no idea what to do with them. As a zombie, when you start getting that one idea in your head and you really latch onto it, that’s it. That one idea is your whole world until either something else comes along or you achieve that one thing.

So, next thing I know and I’m staring at the keys in my hand for like an hour straight. For like three days straight, I had this message Get the keys blasting through my skull. Okay, so now I got the keys. Now what?

Then I heard this moan and I glance over and there’s this other zombie dressed in a tuxedo walking toward me. Well, he was kinda dressed in a tux. I mean, that big hole in his chest wasn’t covered or anything. But other than that, he was in a tux. Oh, yeah, and he had this big rainbow colored wig on his head. Some goofy human kid must have put it on his head for a joke. I don’t know. It looked good on him though. Y’know, kinda like it belonged on him or something.

So, Frank kinda shuffles over to me and I hold up the keys and we’re both staring at these keys for, gotta be, over an hour.

Okay, quick time out. So, how’d I know his name was Frank? Well, probably the same kids that put the rainbow afro on him also spray painted the name Frank on his back. Why? I have no idea. Now, his name could very well not be Frank. He could be a Joe or Barry or whatever. But, since he’s never corrected me, I’m gonna refer to him as Frank.

So me and Frank, we’re staring at these keys, and then Frank, he sorta shrugs at me. Now, I know we zombies aren’t good with moving our shoulders or other assorted body parts too well, but I swear that Frank shrugged at me, just like he was asking, Are we gonna do this or what?

So, I look up and lo and behold, there’s my dang car still out in the parking lot. Yeah, a couple of the windows are broken out, but