Zombie's gone Scavenging Hunt

“It’s been one year since I became a zombie. It’s also my birthday. Twenty years old. Hurray! Now, if only the DMV wasn’t so picky about passing a zombie as a certified driver, it’s not like I’d be the worst driver out there… Iris texted me this morning, she has a surprise for me later on.”

It’s Johnny’s birthday. Twenty years old as a human being and one as a zombie. Or is it just nineteen.

‘Should I stop and start counting again?’ he was talking to himself on his way to meet Iris. ‘The only precedence would be Jesus. He too died and came back to life. For that they reset the calendar. Though, I’m not sure if he reset his own birthday counting.’ After dwelling on this for a few minutes Johnny decided to move on to more important things. What was Iris getting him for his birthday? He was to meet her at the local park at seven p.m. And there he was, at exactly seven, punctual as always.

He didn’t like the park very much. The birds were always trying to go for his eyes or peck at his head, so he was wearing a hat and sunglasses. Looking a lot like a private eye or a Russian spy from a bad movie. Iris arrived shortly after.

‘Happy birthday!’ she said, handing over an envelope. ‘It’s your present. Open it.’

He sure wasn’t expecting an envelope as a present. Still, it could be a gift card or money. Even zombies love money, you might think it’s a care free money situation being undead, but it’s not. All the sewing thread, glue, the perfume and bubblegum add up at the end of the month. He opened it and took out a sheet of paper. He looked at it, looked at the other side, turned it over again and read.

‘It’s a random shopping list?’ he asked shyly. ‘Some don’t even make sense. A blue bra? Why would I wan–’

‘Here, this is part of the present too.’ She took a bottle out from her bag. ‘We’re going to get drunk and have a scavenger hunt.’

‘A scavenger hunt?’ Johnny was surprised.

‘Not a scavenger hunt. A drunken scavenger hunt.’

‘Hmm…’

‘Oh, just drink it. You’ll have fun, you’ll see,’ she smiled.

And they started drinking. You might think a zombie can’t get drunk. Well, you’re quite wrong. Not having a functional liver, zombies get drunk really easy and it lasts for a lot longer. A drunken zombie, unlike the living, has to wait for the alcohol in his decomposing body to decompose (not the body, the alcohol) on its own.

A couple of shots later they were both drunk. It was the good stuff. A vintage bottle of rum. Iris couldn’t stop laughing at Johnny. He was running after the birds and insulting them. Shouting names, Johnny’s mother would not approve of at all the birds he could find. He stopped after realizing he had just thrown his own eyeball at a nearby raven. It was probably best to keep his eyeballs on, he thought. At least while his sober part was still able to take part in the decision making process. Unfortunately, for the raven that is, Johnny’s aim wasn’t good, especially while drunk, so he missed the bird and retrieved the eyeball before the raven could get its beak on a very nutritious meal. He looked at the list again. Read the first item.

‘A fire torch?’

‘Yes.’

‘How am I going to get a torch?’

‘Don’t worry. Everything on the list can be found in this park,’ Iris said. ‘But first, give me those.’ She took his sunglasses and put them on. ‘Now, we’re ready.’

They started wandering around the park. They weren’t going very fast and had to make lots of stops to regain balance and laugh at things sober people wouldn’t laugh at. Still, it didn’t take them too much time before they reached a clearing. There, like every other Friday, was a group of hooded teenagers. They were part of a cult. None of them knew what they were actually worshipping though. Apparently, it was cool to be in the park in the middle of the night wearing hoods and carrying torches.

‘Brilliant Iris,’ Johnny whispered to Iris while laughing.

‘You reek of alcohol,’ she said. Not criticizing, just stating it.

‘Well, it’s not my fault. It’s the alcohol, it just stays here. The last time I got drunk I ended up being drunk for almost a week.’

‘I know, I was there. Zombie barf is the worst. Who would have thought that something could smell that foul. Well, now all you need to do is get a torch from them,’ Iris said.

‘Leave that to me.’ And without warning, Johnny twisted his arm in a very wrong and painful looking way.

‘Ah!’ Iris almost yelled. ‘I’ve warned you not to do that.’ Johnny waved and balanced his now loose arm.

‘Stop that and go get a torch.’

The teenagers were chanting as Johnny started walking towards them with a limp. They screamed  and started running, leaving behind some torches. Johnny popped his arm back in the right place (Iris was glad not to hear that sound) and he grabbed a torch. When all of a sudden, he heard at a distance,

‘Why are we running? We outnumber him,’ and the teenagers started running after Johnny. He tried to run, but zombies tend more to stagger than run. They have to think through every step, give every single command to all the different muscles involved in running, and there are a lot of them. Only zombies with an IQ over 140 can run. Although Johnny isn’t dumb, he isn’t part of the Mensa either. He eventually fell over and, as the teenagers were about to get him, he yelled. To everyone’s surprise, a huge fireball almost hit the group of cultists. Johnny laughed. He yelled again at the torch in his hand and another bluish flame came out.

‘It’s a fire breathing zombie. Run away!’ One of them shouted.

‘I told you, you were reading the wrong passages,’ another said. ‘We should have summoned Cthulhu, not this.’ And they all ran away.

Iris helped Johnny back to his feet.

‘Definitely reek of alcohol,’ she said and they both laughed, not exactly because it was funny, but because alcohol tends to make both humans and undeads laugh at un-laughable situations.

‘What’s next on the list?’ Johnny asked, taking out the list from his back pocket. Iris grabbed the torch.

‘It’s best if I carry this. Don’t want to try fire as a hair removal method.’

‘Why not? Egyptians did it, so do the Turks to remove ear hair.’

‘Ew! That’s gross… and dangerous.’

‘A walking cane!’ Johnny read from the list. ‘I know where to find it. The crazy man by the bridge.’

Iris smiled.

‘I decided not to make them too hard, since we are getting canned tonight.'

‘Getting?’

‘Well, since we are canned tonight.’

They wandered for some hours, collecting the rest of the items, including the cane, a garden gnome and an eight-ball. In between looking for the objects, there was a lot of drinking, puking, peeing and drinking. Not the pee, mind you! Although Johnny’s pee, theoretically since he had never tried it, would be almost identical to the drink he was having. Color too. They were finished with the list, except for one item, the blue bra. Johnny was completely at a loss. He wanted to go and look in the backyards of the nearby houses, but Iris insisted everything was in the park.

‘I give up.’ Johnny sat in the grass shaking the eight-ball. ‘You said it was easy.’

‘I did.’ she smiled and blushed. She sat down next to him. ‘It’s very easy.’ She got closer while grabbing her hair and putting it up in a ponytail.

‘Ohh!’ and as Johnny was about to touch her neck, a raven came down on him trying to pluck out his left eye.

‘Darn these stupid birds. Why won’t they leave me alone?’

Iris lied down, her back on the grass and picked up the eight-ball Johnny had dropped. On the ball it read “MY SOURCES SAY NO.”

She laughed and whispered,

‘Nevermore.’