Read Timothy 02: Tim2 Online

Authors: Mark Tufo

Timothy 02: Tim2 (7 page)

BOOK: Timothy 02: Tim2
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There was a small toolbox in the corner. I grabbed it and headed out. I started rooting through the standard fare, screwdrivers, small hammer, wrench, etc. It wasn’t until I opened up the final drawer that I came across what I was looking for. I held it up like it was a newborn baby and I was displaying him to the world.

“This will do.” I said aloud.

I was a half hour into my newest project when I realized I could barely see. At some point, the day had run away from me and I needed light. Due to Hugh’s enhancements I could see better in the dark, but it still wasn’t like I had night vision goggles on. I traveled over to the Halloween decorations and aptly grabbed some black candles, went back up to the front for a candle lighter and within 5 minutes I was back in business. I knew I was running out of time. Hugh was beginning to grumble about being hungry again and my buddy Clarence was debating on having a moment of lucidity – although two minutes from now he was going to wish he hadn’t.

I blew out a few of the dozen candles I had going for dramatic effect. What was staring me back in the mirror was simply awe-inspiring.

Clarence was staring out of eyes he could no longer control. I made sure not to blink, giving my face an even more exaggerated tone.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” he screamed so loud I could hear Hugh coming to check it out. “WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?”

“I knew you’d like it,” I told him as I plastered on a menacing sneer so he could get the full scope.

I had layered my new face in white pancake make-up; then, realizing that hid my handiwork, I went back over my stitches with black, highlighting them instead of muting them. Next, I drew round red semi-circles over my eyes, donned a red wig and nose. I then capped it off by ruining what looked like ten thousand dollars of dental work by filing all of Clarence’s teeth to sharp points, which I demonstrated by pricking his tongue on them and drawing blood.

“I’m back!” I told him, bringing my white glove-clad hands up. I waved them around like jazz hands. The kiddies would have just loved this. And if I found one of the little bastards I was going to give him good reason to fear clowns.

“I’m ruined,” Clarence was crying.

“God, you’re a pussy. We are the meanest, deadliest, scariest looking motherfuckers around and you’re crying like someone stole your last Pop-Tart. We are the stuff of nightmares! OF FUCKING LEGENDS!! Mothers will tuck their kids in at night telling stories about how they should avoid Timothy. They will welcome the boogeyman instead of me. That pansy will quake at the mere mention of me!”

Clarence snapped then and there – whatever tenuous grip he still had on his psyche was shredded. It was fucking hilarious to watch. I could have been entertained for hours, but I was hungry. And what was weirder was that Hugh hadn’t even prodded me on.

I stepped out of the shop into the cool night air, purple ruffled shirt and yellow parachute pants, fluttering lightly in the breeze. The only sacrifice I had to make was the oversized shoes. If my food would be so considerate as to come to me, I would have worn them. Eventually I needed to find a shoe store so I could get a pair of sneakers, but that would have to wait. I listened carefully for any signs of my prey as they nervously scavenged in the night for their meager supplies. To catch a human, I had to act like one – not always an easy feat for me even before all of this grandness.

One thing I still shared with my former brethren was the need to feed. I needed to find a store that still had some food. I could lie in wait much like a lion did at a watering hole as gazelle came up to nervously drink its fill. I had one false alarm as a zombie came stumbling out of an alleyway. I had hoped for a bum soaked in a nice wine marinade.

Something else occurred to me as I saw the zombie. It took a moment to look over at me, when it realized I wasn’t food, it began its ambling to parts unknown. It was doing what I was doing, hunting. And for every human it took down, that was one less potential meal for me. That just wasn’t going to do, I rapidly approached him.

The zombie looked over at me, as I got close, I saw him sniffing the air. It knew something was different about me, but I don’t think it was much of a thinker. If it couldn’t eat me it really wasn’t all that interested in discovering the why. I hauled back and punched it in the head. He nearly fell over from the force of it. I was more than a little pissed. My old body would have caved that skull in. Clarence was strong like fat people needed to be to haul their heft around, but he wasn’t powerful. I wonder what a gym membership would cost?

The zombie staggered about ten feet and, as he righted his ship, he kept plodding on. I fell in step behind it. The stupid fucker didn’t even care that I was trying to crush its head. I followed him because I thought maybe he knew something I didn’t, like there was a little human all-you-can-eat buffet going on. And this time there wouldn’t be a little puissant restaurant manager to kick me out while I binged on his shitty Indian food spread. I remember cursing at him that I had spent my $9.99 and I was entitled to do just as his sign stated.

“All you can eat, motherfucker!” I had said as I tapped him on the side of his head, like maybe some wiring was loose and he needed some adjusting. Punjab – or whatever the fuck his name was – had some balls, I’ll give him that. He was shouting back that ‘Slovenly Americans needed to pay more!’ I had clipped him on the side of the ear, sending him sprawling. I had been on a decent drinking binge when I’d stumbled upon the restaurant’s dinner deal. I didn’t make much at my accounting job, and when I had an opportunity to eat cheaply I took it.

To be fair I did probably eat the equivalent of a family of five worth of food. I’d even taken two shits while I’d been there. And then, just for the fun of it, one of the times I’d gone into the bathroom and pulled a Roman purging, making sure to spray all over the floor so that I could shove more in. The owner had started pulling my plate out of my hand when I went up for the umpteenth time.

“You’ve eaten enough!” he said in that ‘You
want a Slurpee with that’ voice, or any customer service representative you’ve talked to recently. After I sent him to the floor with a bleeding head, his wife came out brandishing a rolling pin. I pushed her hard on that little fucking dot she had in the middle of her forehead. I thanked her profusely for the target it made. Aiming was so much easier.

“Man, get out of here, I’m calling the cops,” one of the cooks shouted from out the kitchen doors.

I looked over at him debating if I should mess him up. He shrunk back through the door, letting it swing closed.

“Fine I’ll leave,” I told him.

The restaurant was packed full of patrons, and all eyes were plastered on me. They wanted a show; great, I’d give them one. I stuck my finger down my throat. The owner’s eyes got huge, he knew what was coming. I vomited thick ribbons of half-digested yellow and red-sauced chicken and lamb all over the buffet. The smell of bile-covered spicy curry dominated the room. More than a few patrons followed suit, much like when one watches a yawn and is powerless to stop their own. I made sure that no dish on the large table was free from my offering. The ones that suffered the least amount of damage I made sure to close off a nostril and let loose some thick mucus strings. Any eaters who had not yet turned over their meal quickly fell in line.

“This place sucks anyway,” I told him as I wiped my mouth and headed out. The place was closed for a week after that incident. Stupid shithead should have just let me eat. It would have been far cheaper. He never did have another all-you-can-eat
special.

I had just finished reveling in my memory when I noticed we were in the midst of passing a strip mall. “Hey, Clarabelle, what size shoe do you take?”

Clarence was still in his imaginary corner rubbing his imaginary fingers over his imaginary lips really quick, making not so imaginary really weird noises in our shared space.

I left my
zombie walking buddy and headed in. The store looked like a tornado had hit, or at least like a woman with a foot fetish had been there. The world was falling to shit and some titted idiot thought stocking up on footwear was a good idea. I hoped I got the chance to eat her with her new pumps on. The men’s section looked relatively unscathed, after a few minutes of trial and error I determined Clarence to be an eleven-and-a-half.

“I guess what they say about big feet and big penises do
esn’t really apply in your case,” I said to Clarence as I tied the laces on my new boots.

I decided to go with steel toe. Who knew when those bad boys would be handy. I walked up and down the aisle a couple of times, making sure I liked the fit and then headed out and directly into the store next to it. The sports store had been ransacked, mostly for the energy bars, it wasn’t the kind that carried firearms. Just tennis rackets, cleats, and baseball gloves. True sports, not like hunting. In sports there is always a chance one team or player is going to lose, in hunting I don’t know that I’d ever heard of a deer turning the tables on a hunter and taking him out. Talk about a one-sided venture. It equates to a peewee football team taking on a pro NFL team. Any guesses on who’s going to win?

I’m not an animal activist, it’s their fault for being so stupid, I just hate the fucking hunters that are all high-fiving themselves after they killed something with a high caliber rifle from three hundred yards away. Do the same thing with a knife to a tiger, I’d be much more impressed. Killing Bambi with a .30-30 is not a sport, stupid shits.

Damn
, where did that come from?
I thought as I grabbed a thirty-five-inch aluminum Louisville Slugger. I swung it around a few times accidently (on purpose) taking out a display or two.

“This’ll work,” I said aloud.

I walked out of the store and scanned around. It didn’t take too long to find who – or specifically what – I was looking for: the zombie I’d punched wasn’t that far away. I ran over to him, happy that my new boots felt pretty comfortable. I got to within striking distance and brought the barrel of the bat down on its head. I drove the thing damn near halfway into its skull. The bat pulled out with a wet sucking sound as the zombie fell to the ground. I was happy its blood was semi-congealed; the jelly-like substance didn’t splatter as much. I wiped the brain that was stuck to my new killing device on his tattered chinos. I was going to smack him a few more times just for the fun of it, but I was afraid of getting my clothes dirty.

“That’s one less mouth to feed,” I said with satisfaction.

I stepped over its body. The hunger to eat was growing by the second. And as if by divine intervention, the dinner bell rang – well, more like a car horn, but same difference. I strode with purpose to where the sound was emanating from. It wasn’t far, a block at the most from my present location. A blue SUV full of sustenance was moving about with panic in their actions. I stood there and stared trying to figure out what they were doing. There were at least four that I could see, and not a gun among them, although it was difficult to tell from the growing number of zombies that had encircled them.

Even if they had a gun it wouldn’t be the wisest move to stick it out a window and shoot, or worse, shoot through the glass leaving an ingress for the zombies. But that didn’t explain why they were just sitting there, unless they’d either broken down or run out of gas. Either way, it sucked for them. The dipshit in the driver’s seat kept laying on the horn. I walked over quickly before he alerted the whole West Coast chapter of Zombies Unlimited about their whereabouts.

“Shut the fuck up!” I yelled to him. His eyes nearly fell out of his face when he took a look at me. He became as still as a mannequin…and about as white.


Charlie, Charlie! What’s wrong?” This from a woman who most likely had the unfortunate lot in life to have ended up as his significant other. She started screaming when she followed his line of sight to me. I was eating this up! I was a star! There were two older men in the back seat, one was holding a paint stir stick as if that were going to get him out of this present predicament, and the fourth was still searching for something.

About a dozen zombies were clawing desperately at their food tin, trying to get in and grab a late night snack. I rocked the first one on the side of the head. Clotted brain matter sprayed on the windshield and
Charlie’s wailing wife finally shut up.

“FOOOOOOOD!!!!” Hugh cried.

“You just now noticing? Nice of you to awake.” I said to him as I turned and swung the bat, catching the next one flush in the face. I was glad I wasn’t squeamish as the zombies face collapsed in on itself. Her eyes, nose, and mouth now all vying for the same spot as she fell to the ground.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Hugh shrieked, nearly sending me to my knees. “Other Hughs!!”

“Other Hughs want our food,” I told him. “And what’s the matter pal you haven’t cared all that much before are you going all soft on me?” Or more self aware, I thought disturbingly.

I kept swinging the bat, waiting for more protestations. I don’t know if I was getting Hugh’s blessing as I destroyed the other zombies, but he wasn’t stopping me either. I had definitely hit him in a fragile spot. Hugh’s stomach ruled and someday a little she-zombie was going to realize this and capture his heart with a nice ketchup bathed brain-loaf.

I was sweating from my heavy exertion in dispatching the undead; who knew bashing brains in was such hard work? I stood up and four pairs of eyes watched my every move.

BOOK: Timothy 02: Tim2
6.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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