Zombie Infestation: Pitfalls, IL

Pitfalls Press Vol. 17 Issue. 22

Date. 09/09/10

PITFALLS, ILLINOIS:

HOTBED OF ZOMBIE SIGHTINGS?!?

Letters to the Editor

Deer Editor,

My name is Donnie Lee and I do swear by all I hold sacred that what I be fixin' to tell you is the un-var-nished truth.

Now then. Sumthin' rotten be stinkin' in Pitfalls an it should not be covered up like that time the Mayor's boy Willie stole Luke Chandler's prize hog an left it tied up in the last stall of the ladys restroom at the Bowlin' Barn an by the time Luke de-sco-verd poor Beulah was missin' she had done et a whole case of Charmin an up-chucked sumthin' fierce an it took an en-tire MONTH to get the smell o' hog barf outta that place, an' the Bowlin' Barn almost lost their license to them Health De-partment people come snoopin' around. The janitor, old Roy, said he ever caught Willie in a dark alley he was gonna give that boy what-fer an he mint it - mayor or no mayor, that how mad he be.

Now then. The truth must be told an sumthin' needs to be done about all them dead folks poppin' up round Pitfalls. We all know what happend to poor cousin June an them fancy news re-porters tried to blame it on Bubba's huntin' dogs but they get plenty o' victuals an ain't never et nobody yet. Further-more when the Sheriff's boys finally un-covered June's head from outta that field behind Tiny Trailer Town, it proved that it weren't no dogs done bit her but instead that poor head was all wrenched an twisted like a piece o' beef jerky that been run thru a wringer washer one time too many. Deputy Smith turned green around the gills an' looked like he was gonna lose his lunch - he's kinda a sissy boy from the big city anyhow - but don't say I says I so.

Now then. Gettin' to the meat o' the matter. It be a sorry day in Pitfalls when a man cain't take his best girl friend for a little smoochin' on a purty night east yonder of the grain bins with the moon light shinin' all ro-mantic like on the threshers an the smell o' diesel fuel waftin' on the wind. It were perfect and DonnaJean were jes gettin' in the mood after we chugged a few beers cos her job at the Piggly Mart gits kinda stressful an she ain't as young as she used to be standin' on her feet all day an they swells up like purple sausages so I rubs them a bit an we finished off the first 6-pack an like I said DonnaJean were jes startin' to unwind an took off her hairnet - she's a wild un sumtimes - an right as I was wrasslin' with the buttons on my overalls DonnaJean starts a screamin' like that time her ex Six-Toes Ted come home early from stockin' at the Dollar Barn an' caught us skinny dippin' in the kiddie pool an' threatened to shoot us both but since we be on the same bowlin' team we all decided to let by-gones be by-gones plus Ted trooly didn't cares so much one way t'other as he been hangin' round Cletus Cafe tryin' to sweet talk them young waitress-es outta the extra gravy n' biscuits they toss away at the end o' the shift, an we all knows he was after more than a little biscuit to take home.

Now then. So there I am with my best girl an she starts a screamin' an hammerin' on the dash an I thought to myself "Donnie Lee, you might be 50 but you is twice the man Six-Toes Ted ever hope to be", an so I started in a kissin' them moles on DonnaJean's neck like she likes me to, but she won't set still an keeps yammerin' all upset like an then I comes up fer air which I sumtimes hafta do anyhow cos she don't always change outta her uniform from Piggly Mart an the smell o' cole slaw an ro-tiss-ery chicken can get purty powerful let me say for the record here, but weren't that no it weren't cos I looks over where she is all pointin' with a shaky finger an what do I sees but a big ol' swoll up green thing starin' in at us with red eyes like a Christmas corpse an' jes a few strands o' grey hair stickin' outta its skull an' no chin to speak of but a row of rotten black teeth choppin together hard an fast like it, an yellow pus oozin' out it's mouth an if it weren't fer the fancy pin stripped suit it were still wearin' I never would a knowed who it were but it were Elmer Gunthry who died last November when he lost control o' that new pickup he was always showin' off like a brand new Ford was sumthin' to show off cos it be mostly Chevy country round these parts except for Bubba who ain't got sense enough to pour piss outta a boot with the 'structions on the bottom unless his momma tells him how to.

Now then. When I saw that thing that used t' be Elmer leering in the dash all sprawled out an squirmin' across the hood o' my pickup like he was all full o' twisty maggots inside an couldn't set still I could feel the hairs on my back stand up I do swear to you. An his fancy pin stripped suit that his widder paid too much fer but she was always one to judge folks on appear-ances an all because her family had money handed down to them fer gener-ations an never had to work a lick in their life not like good folks have to do, an anyhow that suit was twistin' one way an Elmer was wrigglin' another an trying to work his way inside to get us an to eat our brains clean outta our heads is what DonnaJean said later after I got safe home an poured some hard liquor down her throat til her color come back cos she were lookin' purty pale by that time. But I don't hunt squirrels fer nothin' an I kept a steady head an rammed the truck into reverse then I rammed it forwards in first gear an hit Elmer so hard he flew off over the hood like nobody's bizness an we high tailed it outta there still in first gear cos I kept downshiftin' even if it were hard on the trans-mission when all I knowed was to put as much distance between us and that THANG no matter what.

Now then. You kin call me crazy if you want. But DonnaJean, soon as she is well enough to git back to work, will tell you the same thing an that is that we gots dead folks - some call 'em zombeez - showin' up round these parts an I am saying official-ly fer the record here that if'n sumthin' ain't done things are bound to be gettin' a lot worse afore they gets better an it ain't gonna be my fault if folks get their brains done et. Ever body knows I mean what I say an mebbe folks need to get up a posse down to the ceme-tarry an get them afore they gits us.

A concern-ed citizin,

Donnie L. Braggs