RRF/Malton Herald & Sun/Text/Text0907
Trend Watch
- Harman Pez Dispensers
- By Murray Jay Suskind
As the RRF shambles around South Blythville, there have been more and more zombies carrying around harmanz with their necks slashed open, frequently pushing their head back and taking a small chunk of brainz out through the neck. This gruesome yet delicious treatment of survivors has been dubbed, “The harman pez dispenser.”
“It’s almost as much a fashion statement then anything else,” explains RRF fashion expert Goolina. “Like our refusal to wear pants, our mad squaredancing and our propaganda posters, the harman pez dispensers just make us look cool.”
However, appearances may not be the only factor at work. According to Zahgmahnd Freud, an expert in zombie psychology, the harman pez dispensers may also be used in zombie courtship rituals. “The zombie male rips open the throat of its victim and woos his mate by presenting her with this convenient brain dispensing conveyance. It’s a display of strength as well as an indication that he’s able to provide for the female zombie and any potential baby zombies.”
This new practice does have some detractors, though. A Malton Ranger, who wished to remain anonymous, felt that ripping open the throat left too many lingering effects. “I mean... even... after a revive... your throat... really... really... really... hurts.”
Dr. Freud understands the lingering effects. “Well, revivification does wonders in repairing damage done by various wounds and healing the human brain. However, the violent ripping open of their throats leaves extensive scarring that no amount of revivification can remove.”
Members of the GMT Breakfast Club have been amongst the biggest fans of the harman pez dispensers, ripping open the throats of over ten harmanz a day to provide a sweet snack after finishing the main course of their breakfast.
Additionally, Auxunit 10 has made a business of selling harman pez dispensers to zombies who may have a difficult time procuring their own harmanz. “Well, we tear down barricades, tear open harmanz, and give to the younglings of the horde,” said AU10 strike leader Talunex. “It’s our way of giving them a fun little treat.”
The Ranger, however, hopes that this trend comes to an end. “Seriously... stop... it really... hurts... god-ah!... goddamn-ah!... goddamnit. If... this... keeps... going... we’ll... end up... talking... like... you guys.”
Sweet Zombie Dreams
Whilst Malton's struggle rages on, a solitary zombie sways in dreamlike slumber.
Part I in a serial
By Olam
And what does our dreamer see today? This day he is Zombie Special Op, a highly trained, highly competent zombie assassin designed to combat and destroy the masses of enemies who hunt his kind down. Outnumbered, outgunned, with all odds against him, what chance does Zombie Special Op have? In a city where every enemy is an expert shopper, scientist and soldier all in one, how can a lone zombie turn the tide?
Zombie Special Op is infiltrating a Necrotech building, inside are hundreds of humans huddled together, the smell of excrement and body odour permeates the air, so much so that Zombie Special Op is forced to pull off his nose and deposit it safely in his pocket. Zombie Special Op finds the radio transmitter, which is barely visible for the crowd of humans who, for the most part, are so numerous they are unable to breathe. Zombie Special Op heads for the transmitter, which is broadcasting the important: "ZOMBIES SMELL!!! I HAVE A BIGGUN! I'M CLASSY!!" a sentence that humans are willing to fight for, to protect the brave transmitters and their useful banter. Zombie Special Op terminates the broadcast and instantly meets the attention of those around him.
Zombie Special Op absorbs the bullets, feeling a certain familiarity with them. Though there are only two people awake, they are, despite the hundreds in their way and the excrement stuck to their faces, quite capable of pulling a trigger and shouting conceited phrases. Zombie Special Op manages to maul them back but, horror, Zombie Special Op is headshot and collapses.
Surely this is the end for Zombie Special Op?! But no. Several hours later the humans still have difficulty dumping the body outside, after all, there's over two hundred sleeping people in their way. Zombie Special Op manages to stand up again before being dumped, realising that all it'd take to remove the enemy is a single bomb - after all, they're all in the same place, more or less unable to move.
At this point our lone zombie wakes up, returning to his life as a simple zombie man - certainly no special operative. He throws himself against the barricades to the Necrotech building, the stench is truly greater from within.
Sweet Zombie Dreams
Whilst Malton's struggle rages on, a solitary zombie sways in dreamlike slumber.
Part II in a serial
By Olam
This evening our dreamer is a professional zombie speaker, a scholar through and through. He has read Plato, he has studied Nietzche and, if he says so himself, he's damn good at this speaking lark.
Zombie Speaker finds himself at a stand, to his right is a composed, relaxed human and in front is an audience comprised of both zombie and humans, all watching the discussion eagerly.
Eagerly, for today they are to decide who has won, the humans or the zombies. The human made his case:
"Friends, enemies and those in between, I declare humanity the victor for, although we have lost several strongholds, we have since reclaimed them. The zombies may have bulldozed that which we built and shattered our numbers, but they cannot stay - they may destroy us, but we live on - and once they go we return, surely our perserverence is the key? Surely we are the victors. Our buildings are gone, but the survivors are not."
The screen left the human, whose arms were left victoriously high, and focused instead on Zombie Speaker:
"I dare not suggest that humans are not perseverant, that is shown more or less in their choice of choosing to attack the same building twice, but I do suggest that in fact zombies are the victor. We have razed their foundations to the ground, answered their brags with roars and hit back against the legions of trenchcoaters, firemen, military SAS and whatever other stereotype the humans like to portray themselves as. They might very well reclaim their buildings, but it does not take us long to stand up and take them back again. They live in fear of us, we do not live in fear of them. Why else would they barricade their buildings in the first place?"
At this point our lone zombie wakes up, returning to his life as a simple zombie man - certainly no public speaker. As he descends upon a mall's broken barricades, he truly wonders whether the word 'victory' has any meaning in Malton. Surely, if any side could 'win', the other would 'lose'? Yet both sides remain adamant that they have in fact won, and neither side has left the game completely.
The doubts seem to subside when our lone zombie makes his first kill of the morning.
Editor's Note: This is the first serial story to run in the Malton Herald & Sun by our very own Olam.
