Journal:Leon Burdy's Diary
From The Urban Dead Wiki
A small, well kept leather diary,Pitman Pitbulls has been writen on the inside cover
January 20th
It is good to be home. Since we re-barricaded and moved in I've twice been on the roof to scout for zombies. Yesterday I dropped my pants, unfurled my coissant and waved to a group of zombies trying to get in. Then I killed one and blew the arm off of another before I put my pants back on and went back inside to make coffee.
Earlier in the week I confronted Popsy Bubbles for being the zombie collaborator we thought she was. That little girl, she's got a mouth on her! If she can shoot like she shoots off her mouth off then the mansion will be a safer place now that I know she's the personal nemesis of Lord Pitman. I could never have shot her if she was a collaborator though, she reminds me so much of my Mathilda, lost among the ruins of Malton. I can't help but want to protect her.
Today I dove off the roof and body-surfed into a crowd of zombies near the NW corner and hacked and shot at them. They put up a good fight, but I didn't get infected. My aim was off, I think I've been wearing these shades too long.
I still can't find a pen that'll write in French. But at least I don't have to write in Drathe's diary anymore.
January 22nd
The zombies are gone from the mansion and I have rebarricaded most of the place up. I am low on ammo so I'm left to sharpen my axe and hope that the rest return so I can head out and look for more ammo. I'm starved, and only The Red Joey knows were the stash of Poptarts are kept. There's a new guy hiding out here, maybe he'll make a Pitbull, we could use the help.
January 27th
I just got back from Calvert Mall where everyone is running around in circles over the Mall Tour '06. None of the Pitbulls are home, but I've done my rounds and made sure the barricades are secure. I heard the odd zombie moan from down the street, but nothing to be concerned about. I'm sitting in Lord Pitman's smoking room on his leather couch listening to The Best of John Carpenter Soundtracks on a discman I found in the mall. Life is good. Marde! Zombies! Baron Von Evil! I must fini--kjopsadf[mfsa thi-jasfdsw0-i30i9.,' ./. diar/xzc woz;lm4320-z l; entry opz. /. GNAP! GNAP!! GNAPGNAPGNAP! GNAP!!!
February 4th
It has been a week. I've been zombified three times. Three! First at the mansion, then at the church and finally in the necrotech building next door. I'm writing from the Aursgarde police station, and let me tell you, there are few pages unmarred by blood in my journal. My clothes are in tatters and my sunglasses are missing a lens. And I smell like shit because, after my second zombification incident, somebody pinched a loaf on me. I know it to be Lord Pitman. There were bits of corn in it and I know of the Dark Lord's fondness for corn niblets from all of the cans of Delmonte corn niblets I've found in the mansion's pantry. I must revenge my trenchcoat! But, alas, I think a trip to the mall is in order to get new...everything. The Pitbulls are scattered and without a home. It is a dark time in Quarelsbank. But I have a plan to reverse our fortunes.
February 11th
I am back in the police station writing from the basement shooting range. The sound of gunfire is soothing, but sitting at the end of the range may have been a bad idea because some of the shots are getting closer. What to write...I spent the week in the Calvert Mall searching the gunstore for more ammo, getting new clothes, finding new shades and having a few good meals. I was introduced to 'brunch.' It's not quite breakfast and it's not quite lunch but it comes with a slice of cantelope and it makes a good meal. The wishing fountain in the food court was inviting and I bathed the grime of the past weeks off, much to the protestations of the people in the food court. Screw 'em. The pennies in the fountain I loaded into my shotgun to give it a little extra punch. I'd normally feel like an asshole stealing pennies from a wishing fountain, but I know that lately all of the wishes are probably to kill zombies, so it's ok.
Late in the week I was re-zombified when the zombies broke in late at night and swarmed the place. Something new about these zombies, I put up a good fight but the zombies seem to know the 'sticky hands' of Wing Chun kung-fu. It's like their hands were coated with maple syrup, they kept getting hold of me and tore me to shreds. I suspect Lord Pitman has trained them somehow, I remember seeing a Tae-bo DVD mixed in with his porn collection. Tabernac! Now we must face kung-fu zombies! Will this nightmare ever end! Anyway, I was revived in no-time and made it back to the mall to get new clothes and come here. I'm looking and smelling more myself and armed to the teeth. Soon, soon, the Pitbulls revenge will be at hand.
Ostie! I almost forgot! On the way over here I did a little recce and found Lord Pitman in the Hollum Street Railway station. The pennies ripped him assunder from my new Remington shotgun I found at the mall. I had few words for him, but sprayed him down with lighter fluid and lit him on fire as he lay on the ground before I blew his brains out. I left a can of Delmonte corn niblets on his chest so he could have a hot meal when he gets up. I will enjoy killing him again in new and interesting ways.
February 13
Well, we're all back home in the mansion. Last week I thought up Operation Pit-Slap to retake the mansion, so yesterday we all attacked and cleared out the zombies. There weren't as many as I'd hoped, and Lord Pitman wasn't around, but we retook our home either way. Hell, I killed four of the shambling bastards, a new record! I'm resting in my hammock having some campbell soup (no, the other kind, chunky beef) and enjoying the fire. The rest of the Pitbulls are home, the wine flows freely and the cigar smoke has left the room in such a haze that I spooned up to Brian on the couch thinking it was Popsy. Tabernac!
Tomorrow I'll head out and give Lord Pitman a wedgie.
February 19
A very tiring week. We've held the mansion against repeated zombie attacks, but it remains in our hands by god! Lord Pitman and his cronies broke in on the last two attacks and were dispatched. I didn't quite get to give him a wedgie but I filled him full of lead, my new zombie friend finished him off for me. I met this zombie out on my last patrol and didn't have the heart to kill him. He looks a little slow, like in his former life he was one of those kids who rode in the short bus at school, and he stands out because he's dressed like a mime. Normally I'd shoot a mime on principle, but his cherubic little face just lights up when he's ready to rip your arm off. I convinced him that all zombies have a flesh popsicle in their pants, I just point one out and off he goes yelling, "Brahp-si-cle!" and tears at their crotch like a rabid squirrel trying to open a jar of Planters Peanuts. I can call him now with the dog whistle I carry around my neck and keep him close to the mansion with the promise of more zombies and their popsicles. Sometimes, it's good to be French, you can be an asshole and nobody thinks anything of it!
Yesterday Baron Von Evil got me. I was asleep in my hammock when they broke in. Those zombie bastards strangled me in my hammock and curb stomped me until I turned. Next thing I knew I awoke zombified outside. Hearing, "Brahp-si-cle!" I knew what was to come next. Thank god everything grows back with the revivification process. I didn't have to wait long for it at the Boait Monument and now I'm back in the Mall getting new clothes and bandages. I like the new ones with the colourful little fish on them, they make the ouchies hurt less. Soon I'll head home and resume my search for Lord Pitman and that Baron Von Evil. I owe them another talk with Remington.
February 28
The zombies kept at us all week and we kept repelling their silly knees locked shambling about attacking behaviour. Lord Pitman broke in and bit me on the ass while I played Tetris on my Gameboy while reclined in my hammock. He was shot to smithereens by the rest of the Pitbulls and unceremoniously tossed outside. I was not too quick to react, I get that way when I play video games, but my friends cleaned my wound and all his been quiet. Popsy declined my request to have her kiss it better. C'est la vie.
We now have a new mascot: Pitman The Pitbull. I was on a deep patrol to the south when I snuck into Club Beauchamp. I'd heard rumours that it was the home of Baron Von Evil. He was not around but feasting on a zombie carcass outside was a decrepit old toothless runt of a pitbull that the locals said used to belong to him. I don't think he's long for the world, and he's another mouth to feed, but I've a soft spot for doggies so I brought him home. Between him, my oven mitt, Piggy, and Groo the retarded zombie, I have many new friends in Quarelsbank. Oh, I must talk to Godamsmack about his leaving an axe in Groo's forehead, he didn't like that.
In recent days the fight seems to have been taken out of the zombies. Time to spruce up the old place I thinks while the neighbourhood is quiet.
March 1
The month came in like a lion for Lord Pitman. While on patrol I caught him in his silly zombified state outside of the Bearnard Museum. I plugged him full of lead and then disposed of him in my own particular idiom: I ignited my fart at him and incinerated his shambling carcass in a flash of blue flame! I've been plugged up for weeks on a steady diet of pork & beans at the mansion, saving my energy just for this very moment. It felt good but it created such a terrible thunder that I feared other zombies would converge on us. I'm free of Klingons now but won't be able to sit for a week. It was worth it.
In my boredom I've written a little ditty for us to drink to called 'Zombalot.' It sounds better after a few beer. Now I must revenge myself on Baron Von Evil, he is more elusive than Lord Pitman but I will find him and finish him in my own style. I think I'll bring Pitman the Pitbull on my next patrol.
March 8
I'm writing from the St. Bennedict's Hospital after taking a rest from wheelchair jousting. It's true what they say: it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye, but hey, it was a zombie at the bottom of the wheelchair ramp so it's all good. Those IV poles have good penetration, stainless steel and all. I think I'll bring a few back with me to the mansion. What to say...I nailed Lord Pitman twice this week. On a patrol around the mansion I found him outside the Bearnard Museum. After gunning him down I straddled his chest and plunged a crucifix into his heart, which I had found at the nearby church, while chanting, "The power of Leon compells you! The power of Leon compells you!" I saw that in a movie once. But it didn't kill him for good like I'd hoped. Later that day he showed up at the mansion door with the damn crucifix sticking out of his chest. Disgusted, I shot him down with little comment. Popsy blew him away a few hours later when he got up again. Persistent little bugger.
I spent most of the week in the mall getting kitted up again. I came back to the mansion shortly after I'd heard Pitman and his cronies had broken in and killed a few of us. It was a long walk to the mansion as I was carrying three portable generators and jerry cans of fuel, but there were few zombies around to notice me. Now the mansion is fully powered. Some paint and spackle and it will feel more and more like a home.
Word is we were betrayed by people living in the mansion. We must counter-plot against Lord Pitman's counter-counter plot against plots that we have against his plotting in plotty-type fashion. We shall prevail and continue to survive Malton on the spoils of Pitman's Mansion. Vive le Pitbulls libre!
March 17
Enfin ! J'ai trouvé un stylo qui écrira en français ! Pendant ma dernière course de munitions dans le mail de Calvert j'ai trouvé une petite boutique française appelée les importations de Frog 1. Le magasin avait été pillé tout à fait mal ; tout ce qui est resté était un accordéon, un béret et ce stylo. J'ai pris l'accordéon aussi, je pense à mettre en marche un dos musical de nombre au manoir. Tellement s'est produites ces dernières semaines, what to write
/// \\\ ///
Oh hell! I finally find a pen that writes in French and it runs out of ink! Damn!
Goings on: I spent some time at the St. Benedict Hospital again to get more bandages. I set up a hammock in the laundry room to overnight when the zombies broke in. Oddly enough, the one to get me had an IV pole skewered through his temples. No sense of humour those zombie sorts. Somebody plugged me with a syringe at the Boait Monument and brought me back to the living. I made my way to the Necrotech building south of our warehouse and spent a couple of days making more syringes. I like to spike mine with some smack I found in a back alley over in Jensentown. My hope is it gets zombies addicted to life or, failing that, it’ll make them a little mellower and less ill tempered.
I took Pitman the Pitbull out for a stroll of the neighbourhood and added a little graffiti to mark our territory. Pitman did his part by pissing on corpses along the way. There was no sign of Lord Pitman so I went to Club Funnel for a drink. No luck in finding any milk, so I had to settle for a Labatt’s Blue from their import stock; I’d no sooner drink American beer than lick the blood soaked floors of the mansion! While enjoying my beer, who should wander into the bar but Lord Pitman himself. The devil had been there all along! I bid him a few words of greeting and then tried to sick my doggie on him. Alas, that pitbull is a little off because he humped my leg like a teenager on Ecstasy and I had to fend him and Lord Pitman off.
Before I killed the evil Lord I took back the bandage Godamsmack had mistakenly applied in the heat of battle (I’ll be sure to wash it before I give it back), and told him to get a cell phone so I can taunt him in my own particular idiom by voice and text messages. Then I blew his brains out, apologized to a female survivor in the room for the mess and returned to the mansion. My crazy day continued when I was confronted with a zombie as soon as I crawled back into the ballroom. I almost fired when I realized it was Drathe Blue, somebody had put an “Mrh?�? t-shirt on him as a joke and let him wander around after he’d turned. Not funny. I gave him a shot with the revivification syringe, but as soon as he hit the ground, Pitman the Pitbull went at his leg. I figured no harm done, and it’d give me a chance to get the doggie spunk off of my shin. When I got back he was still at it, so I strung him up to the ceiling fan by the leash and turned it on. That should cool down his necrophilliac-shin-humping behaviour!
The next day I wandered into Jensentown to do some research in the Peres Library. I figure, while I’m in Malton I might as well make progress towards my degree by correspondence. I need an English credit (modes de Anglais!) so I started to research the role of the female poet in Victorian literature through the writings of Christina Rossetti and Elizabeth Barret Browning. I fell asleep with a pile of books around me when I was jarred awake by a hand on my shoulder and a familiar voice that said, “Ahh Leon my old adversary, this is where you dwell is it?�? Lord Pitman! He got the jump on me, I tried to give him an uppercut with a copy of ‘Goblin Market,’ but he deftly roundhoused me with ‘Aurora Leigh.’ It was a short fight, the last thing I saw before he said, “Goodnight Leon�? was a copy of ‘Sonnets of the Portuguese’ being driven into my eye socket.
I awoke bewildered, zombified, but strangely encultured. Much more lucid than in previous zombie experiences, I found I could converse at length with Zombie Shakespeare in the Elizabethan English section before the human survivors ejected us. Now I wander the streets, heading to the Boait Monument for a revive, pondering the verses of the great Victorian female poets:
How do I zombie? Let me count the ways
I zombie through the night
My soul lost, my humanity out of sight
To the ends of Malton and survivors do I chase.
I zombie through the day
My hunger grows, by sun and firefight
I zombie freely, as men scream in fright
I zombie purely, as they set me ablaze
I zombie with the malice put to use
In my old angers and lack of faith
I zombie with a hatred I seemed to lose
With my lost constraints, I zombie with bad breath
Snarls, bites, all my life! - and if Lord Pitman choose,
I shall zombie thee unto death
If someone should find this journal, please revive me, my mind is slipping, my urge to kill....RISING!
August 10
I found my journal! It has been violated though with obscene stick-man drawings, shit smeared between pages, blood, jiz and snot. And that's just the stuff done by the Pitbulls! The stuff that Lord Pitman and the PTS did is beyond mentioning, although I thought the collage of pitbulls in compromising positions with cats cut from the SPCA catalogue was especially creative.
So much has happened in the intervening months. I've been dead, undead and alive more times than I care to count. Because of the toll this takes on my wardrobe I now keep a dumpster full of my regular clothes behind the mansion, most of it I got from the Salvation Army Thrift Store. We pitbulls went on tour of Malton, but there really isn't much to see. Once you've been infected, turned, killed, dismembered and drawn and quartered in one neighbourhood you've done it in them all. C'est la vie, non? By the time we got back all of Quarlesbank had gone to complete shit. The mansion was over-run with zombies and was a total wreck. The PTS were running the show again. It's worse than when I showed up a year ago.
We're working on liberating Quarlesbank and getting our home back. The PTS have grown since we were away and there are even more assholes from the RRF wandering around. Normally, the French in me would retreat, but I'm French-Canadian, and we never retreat; we just stick around and irritate the hell out of everyone and criticize everything. So, I shall endeavor to irritate the PTS to no end if we can't get our home back. It's my way.
