Story Go Round 12/09/2006, round 1, #1

Santa-Zombies in the Snow

(pre-titled by Amber)

Flakes fell. Lots of them. Maurice wiped them from his shoulder and sighed, looking at the smoke wisping up from the snomobile engine. He reached into his backpack and withdrew a snack to munch on while he waited.

"What are you doing, mister?" a small asked from behind him. Maurice didn't jump, because he had been expecting this to happen.

"I'm waiting," he said patiently. "What are you doing?"

There was no immediate answer. "Would you like to come with me?" A snowball made impact with the back of his head and knocked part of it off. The part he'd lost lay deep in the snow and began melting a hole around it.

Straightening his hat , he put away his finger food and opened the snowmobiles storage hatch and fished out some duct tape. Tearing off a strip, he patched up his head, using a spring to get the jaw right. He was a little overripe right now, and some of the others didn't understand that. A soak in the tubulator would fix that, but it would have to wait.

He made sure his beard was still attached, then checked his watch. There was still time.

The small voice began singing, "I saw Mommy kissing Sa-anta Zombies..." Maurice whirled to face the little imp, but found himself face-to-face with a yeti. It blinked at him impassively, and he stuck out his hand professionally. It shook paws with him reflexively while Maurice gave him the full schmooze package. "...Don't know why they're alwys going on about your feet - they're not that big..."

Maurice had to spit one of his own fingers back out, as he'd confused it with the snack-pack treats he'd somehow gotten back out again. The Yeti looked at him , still not completely comprehending this vaguely greenish figure wearing a red and white outfit.

"Are you the Grinch?" he asked slowly. "He said he would meet me out here with som ehot chock absorbers for my monster truck. I'm the Abdominal Snow Man."

Maurice wasn't sure what to say. The answer was, technically, no, but he was afraid to disappoint an eight-foot-tall white-furred wookie. So, "What's your name?" he asked.

"Fitzwilbur," the yeti replied. It stepped back and helped itself to a finger, sucking on it thoughtfully while wondering what to do with the non-grinch. "Fitzwilbur," Maurice said smoothly. "I can get you those shock absorbers for less than the other guy - and I'll even throw in a set of gargoyle hood ornaments."


"Yes sir, indeedie, and if you act now--""

Taking that as an yone might the lulled yeti didn't see what was coming. Arrowing his arm (with a somewhat incomplete hand) at the yeti, Maurice took a big breath and held it, creating an internal blood pressure resulting in a spray of blinding blood across the yeti's eyes who threw himself full-length in the snow, convulsing and anguished.

The distant buzz of snowmobiles caught Maurice's attention. He checked the time again and found it was just right. Turning his back on the writhing yeti, he went back to the storage hatch and began to assemble his equipment quickly.

His Saint Nick garbed compatriots raced into view, several wiping out at the turn. The remaining ones ran over the yeti, one by one, until the snow was pink and slushy. The others sloughed off mangled body parts and joined Maurice in lugging over the food processor, saliva flowing at the thought of the finished product.

Removing brain and organs, they all went in, along with some mulling spices, and the blender whirred and whizzed noisily in the still winter air. Maurice got out mugs . A festive feeling was creeping up his numb body, this was what Christmas was about, really, when you came down to it. It was about friends, all of them undead, losing body parts, sharing cooking tips, fellowshipping, grateful, a little cold but warm inside, eating a yeti.

A song came unbidden to Maurice's lips, and he released it. "Zipping though the snow, on our snowmobiles, running over yetis, eating tasty meals. Hey-hey! Bells on severed toes ring, making more zombies rise, oh ... (and here all the others joined in, whether they still had all the prerequisite parts or not) what blood we'll spurt tonight, in our one bell fur-lined hats Hey!

It began to snow again.

And they sang another round of 'Jingle Brains,' and another.

Merry Christmas, folks, and a Zombie-filled New Year!