When the West was Partially Dead

Zombies love kittens, all cats even. No one really knows why. They just do. Finding out this absolutely really true fact was the only reason my town survived after them zombies came.

A few years ago, be specific, or rather 16 years, has it really been 16 years? There is a calendar - checking it now - wow 16 ½ years. 16 ½ years ago, zombies started popping up in the small town where I live, and well, no one knew what to do. People were getting eaten up left and right, as zombies were known to do, and nobody was happy about it. I mean, well, zombies might’n been, but none of us humans were okay with them eating our family and friends.

Luckily, a stray cat taught us the trick to living with zombies, and you can learn it, too. Over the course of this book, I will spell out how you can learn to live with zombies and have them become a non-threatening part of your normal day-to-day life.

“Leroy?” The light from the computer monitor glowed, lighting up Leroy’s face. The rest of the room had grown steadily dark as he sat typing at his computer.

“Yeah, Pa?” Leroy shouted at the closed door.

“Get your butt downstairs. Your mama says it’s time for supper.”

Leroy sighed, resigned to a break when he was finally getting started. He slid his chair back. He stretched his arms up over his head and twisted his back from side to side. It let out a series of satisfying cracks. He got up and opened the door to his room. Pa was standing in the hall waiting with his arms crossed. Leroy slid around him. The glare on Pa’s face followed him.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you, so we can eat.”

The two of them clomped down the stairs and into the kitchen. Pa sat at the head of the table, and Leroy walked over to his open seat. He nodded to the table, pulled the bowl of mashed potatoes over, and started dishing himself up some. Everyone else already had food on their plates, waiting for him to come to the table before they could eat.

“So,” his sister Mary prompted. She had a long face, kinda like a horse. A trait that sadly ran through the family. Leroy looked at her and then grabbed the peas.

“So?” he repeated.

“What was so darn interesting that you were late for dinner?” Tanner demanded. He had his arms crossed and was glaring down at Leroy. Tanner always was an eater. He liked dinner to be right on time. Leroy grabbed his plate, got up, and walked over to the fried pork chops at the other end of the table.

“What were you up to, sweetie?” Mama was not accusing as she asked, but she was curious.

Leroy smiled down to her, “Writin’.”

“Writing? About what?”

“It’s a self help book on how to handle them zombies. I figure we can’t be the only town dealing with them, even if none of the nearby ones are. And we tamed ’em nice and good.”

“Don’t know that it’s more important to write than to get down to eat on time.” Tanner commented.

“Hush, you.” Mama let Leroy settle back into his seat, his plate now full. “I think that’s mighty swell Leroy.” She informed him, “A real service.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

“Alright, y’all,” Pa grabbed up his knife and fork, “Everyone dig in.”