Alex and the Zombie

1. Saturday

8-year-old Alex wakes up at dawn, he never wakes up at dawn, only today is Saturday and Saturday's cartoons begin at 6: am sharp. Some action toy commercial animated in Korea every week that involves moustache wearing musclemen in battle armors with some cold war motif pasted to it plays on the screen. Alex always wonders why they call it the cold war. Was it a giant snowball fight? Or was everybody freezing while warring? The 80's was a weird time. Zombie always watches the channels with the 80's cartoons. He calls them classics. Zombie is a nostalgia addict.

Alex pours a big bowl of chocolate covered Frosted Flakes and sits down next to Zombie who has a bowl of diet sugar free brains. Zombie cares about what he eats. His last medical check-up was a disgrace. Alex watches Zombie eat his diet, sugar-free brains with soy milk. Silly Zombie, diet, sugar free brains are not for kids nor tired old ghouls. In fact diet, sugar free brains are so awful they shouldn't be for anyone.

Alex changes the channel, Zombie groans in disapproval of course, that yellow sponge guy is up to his usual shenanigans driving his neighbor insane for no apparent reason. Zombie groans louder, he hates the yellow sponge guy. Zombie thinks the yellow sponge guy makes kids dumb. Yeah Zombie, like some cartoon about armored space hawk people is going to make you smarter. Not that it matters, Zombie has the intelligence of a house plant.

Zombie grabs the remote control and changes the channel. A man cat with a sword is yelling nonsense as beams shoot out of it. Other men cats gather around him. 80's synth music plays and dynamic camera angles make everything look awesome. Alex hates it. He grabs for the remote, Zombie snaps his teeth at him and tries to bite. Alex, quickly pulls his arm away and fires a purple beam from his tiny hand. Zombie's head falls off. Zombie's head hits the floor and ends up facing the couch just between the two TV trays. Alex bursts out in laughter and milks shoots out of his nose, real milk, none of that soy milk Zombie has to drink due to his poor health. Zombie growls in profound disapproval.

Zombie's body shoots out from the couch, knocks both TV trays down and spills diet sugar free brains with soy milk and the chocolate cover Frosted flakes all over the white carpet. It's a gross brown and red mess. White carpets always get the worst part of staining spills. Alex roars with laughter as Zombie's body kicks his own head as he tries to pick it up. Zombie does not approve and groans disapprovingly.

Alex claims the remote control and proclaims himself master of the couch, his eyes glow a bright crimson red. His smile is all fangs. He changes the channel to some cartoon about a weird kid and a magical dog, it makes no sense. Alex loves it. Zombie stumbles around the room trying to pick his head up. Alex uses telekinesis to make it float and move it around. Zombie groans in disapproval and shoots dirty looks at Alex as his head flies by. Alex chuckles. Zombie's funny, the best companion a daemon spawn could ask for really.

Zombie's head flies around the room and knocks over a Tiffany lamp, a scale model of the Titanic and a bust of Karl Marx. It makes Zombie groan every time he hits something. Alex is in stitches; he laughs like a loon. Zombie's body has stopped chasing its head. It sits back down on the couch on top of Alex and wrestles the remote control away from him. It changes the channel just in time to watch a huge, blonde, competitive weightlifter raise up a power sword and punch a skull headed guy right in the face. What is up with the eighties and power sword wielding professional bodybuilders?

Zombie's head lies on top of the coffee table right next to the latest copy of Amateur-Daemon Photographer. Zombie loves the magazine. He reads it for the articles. Alex loathes it with an 8-year-old passion only an 8-year-old boy could harbor. Zombie's body has stop moving, it sits still on top of Alex who pushes and struggles to get it off of him. He decides to blast it off. A flash of blinding light and Zombie's body sails across the room and smashes against the TV. No more cartoons for either one.

Alex grabs his head with both hands. His mouth hangs open like a fish's. Oh no, this is the third TV in two weeks. Alex is Ruler Supreme, but his mom is Ruler Supremer. Zombie's body stumbles a little bit but manages to get back on his feet. It walks slowly to the coffee table and grabs its head, he puts it back on, a few adjustments and he is good to go. Alex still sits on the couch in shock, his hands push against his temples, his mouth hangs wide open, his eyes as large as dinner plates. Zombie sits down next to Alex and adjusts his head a little more. They turn to each other and with just one look agree that Alex's mom will end them, then put the back together and end them again. Zombie groans disapprovingly.