Zombie Attack at Trailer Park PART II

So's to continue with the events o' that turrible nite when haf the trailer park done got ate up by evil gizzard gobbling zombies ...

First strange thing I knowed wuz I heard moaning all soft and low comin' from the row of trailers nearest to the cemeterie, but I didn't pay it no mind at first cos I wuz thinkin' it might be coming from Miz Candi Bandy's trailer and since she's a single gal it weren't none o' my business cos I say live n' let live even tho haf the other gals in the park can't stand Miz Candi and spread awful mean rumors 'bout her reputation, but most o' them rumors ain't true especially the one about Miz Candi and that midget from the carnival who gave her all them free rides on the Tilt O' Whirl.

That wuz the summer Fat Freddie got stuck on the Ferris Wheel for four hours an' they had to call the amblance for the jaws o' life to cut him outta that seat like a 8oz. sardine wedged in a 6oz. can an' Fats threatened to sue haf the dang city.

Sorry if I digress much ... so's while Fats is in the trailer hiding the empty beer cans under his bed where his momma cain't reach to hoover up, I hears this moaning and they gets to be more of it, lots more, like Candi and the whole dang circus or carnival or such, an' I sez Ted do you hear that what I be hearing? An' I could hear t'other noises too it sounded like a bunch of drunks sounds when they come stumbling out of a bar at closing time. Shuffle shuffle lurch, it were. And I swear on my genuine Jeff Gordon autographed photo-graph that the very hair on my neck, shoulders and back stood up like Fats' momma at a prayer meetin'.

Ted don't say nuthing as he is passed out under Fats' Ford with his skinny trousers stickin' out - that is how he got ate up, them zombies seen his legs sticking out like drumsticks on a yard bird, but I don't like to recall him thatta way, I jes picture Ted all peaceful n' smiling n' dead-drunk instead o' dead-dead with his knees gnawed clean off and that one boot with the hole in it where he liked to air out his bad toe where foot fungus had gotten hold, an' them crazy zombies jes tossed that one boot with poor Ted's yellow toe still inside over onto the big cordaroy recliner that Fats' momma set out a month ago by the gravel curb an' the trashman keeps ignoring like he cain't see a big ol' rain soaked recliner sitting there plain as the nose on my face.

Zombie Attack at Trailer Park

Nobody outside Pitfalls, Illinois, gonna believe this but it be true. Ted, Fat Freddie and me seen it happen.

'Course, Ted's dead.

But me and Fats survived and we think everybody gotta know 'cos it could happen again. Folks gotta be warned n' such, somehow, even if them uppity newspeople won't talk to us. I think they's trying to keep it hushed like.

Sees, I gotta theory 'bout the whole bizness. I think somebody is building these here trailer parks smack dab next door to cemeterys for a reason, and it ain't a purty one. I think certain folks know they's gonna come a real honest-to-goodness zombie apopcalypse and they figure what's a few trailer parks, more or less. We're like the front line boys ... expendable like, if you get my drift. Like the canary in a coal mine.

But about that whole ugly bizness 'bout what happened t'other nite. It were awful I tell you but here it be:

Me and Ted had spent all afternoon working on Fat's truck, the big old red Ford he keeps parked behind the Dairy Queen when he's up there messin' around with Miz Candi Bandy and trying to sweet talk her out of an extra dilly bar or two. Well, that old Ford (I'm a Chevy man myself and plan to stay thatta way) had done thrown a rod and Fats was fit to be tied as how was he gonna get no ice cream with his truck all buggered up and no govermint check comin' till the first o' next month?

They don't call Freddie 'Fats' for nuthin.

But me and Ted sed we'd pitch in, take that old red bugger apart and switch out engines, if'n Fats would supply the beer, knowing full well he always has a couple o' cases coolin' out in the shed where his momma cant' find it 'cos she believes mighty strong in meetin' up with Jesus one day and she aims for her boy to do the same. (Fats feels reel bad that the zombies ate his momma but he's glad she's with Jesus now, or at least the parts of her they couldn't digest. Praise the Lord them zombies left his pet iguana alone. That would'uv broke Fat's faith in the Almighty, he told me later.)

So where wuz I? Oh, yeah. We boys been working on that fool truck all day, till bout sundown come and there weren't no more light left to see by, and anyways half the street lights are busted in the park so no help there. Call it a day, boys, Fats sed. And right smart thinkin' too, as we'd had enough beer that Ted couldn't tell a Phillips from a flathead, not that it matterd after all 'cos betwixt you n' me that truck had seen the last of it's glory days and one more rod thru the engine was jes another nail in the coffin, so's to speak.

Anyway, it were just another early evening with the sunset gleaming all purty off the sheet metal and the cats comin' out of hiding. Jes like always and nobody suspected that in another hour they was gonna be dead people stumblin' around gobbling up brains like bratwurst.