Oh Snap!
Leprechauns!
And their ZOMBIES!
Leprechauns!
And their ZOMBIES!
In the magical land of sugar and rainbows
Rivers of fruit-punch and trees of gold coins
The home to the Wee people, unicorns and
guys who calls the girls the next morning…
There’s a rather upsetting problem.
Ya see, Dr. Meanny-Pants wanted to take control of the place from The kind, The fair and The honorable, Da-Da-Dum!
King Dark Chocolate The Fifth!
with aide from The Red Baron of Hot-Pockets,
financial support from Wealthy Willy
(Ritchie Rich’s little know evil cousin)
and a lots of spooning with The Bogyman.
Many plans were laid out…
but most of them sucked or were boring…
So we whittled it down to the three best and most likely
to completely fail and blowup in his face.
Number 3. Replace all the sugar in the land
with artificial sweeteners, the theory was it
would make all the people to tired to stop him
from conquering the land…
Remember those Emails from a friend of a friend of a friend?
Number 2.
10 story tell Laser mounted cyborg unicorns
…need I say more?
Number 1…ZOMBIE LEPRECHAUNS!!!…
Yes I said Zombie Leprechauns…
Yes how can that ever fail.
End of part one.
HAPPY ZOMBIE JEEBUS DAY!!!
bye.
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The young man hunched over his laptop in the darkness of his basement room; the lone window let in the pale light of a dying street light and the whimpering and hoarse growls of the chained pit bulls that guarded the neighbor’s prized Fat Boy. His red-eyed gaze fell over the flickering YouTube screen, dazed by the pretty figures. “Pretty . . . pretty . . .” he drooled in his ecstasy, watching google eyed as the leprecahuns and fairies danced to the pseudo Celtic elevator muzak. Suddenly, the laptop screen reflected a looming figure behind Robot Boy.
“Long time no see, R.B.”
He turned around, face drained, forehead beaded with cold, icy sweat.
“Surprised, Robot Boy? Surprised to see your Best Friend Forever?”
The rotting flesh gave the cadaverous, ragged figure an oddly endearing smile, cracked teeth and all. Some feet behind the first apparition, a clown zombie held, as a weapon, a large, armless, bloodstained, hairless doll with large crystal blue eyes that never shut.
“Yeah, Boy, surprised to see yer old, forgotten pals what ye never writes about no more?”
“No, it’s not true, Zombie self, Dark Klown, I haven’t forgotten you! I’ve just been . . . busy. I’ve been plannin’ to write more about you, really, I have!”
“Oh, you ‘ave, ‘ave ye . . . I bet if we looks into that there Journal we’ll find out what ye’ve been really saying about us. Bet it’s al all ‘bout leprechauns an’ such . . .”
“And about puppies and stuffed animals, too, I bet.”
“Oh, and about Goth Girls in argyle socks, I know what he likes. Getting soft on us, his old childhood friends, aren’t you, forgetting about ME!
“No, Punk Tuba Clown, it’s not . . . not true! I still think about you all, and the Old Haunted Alley, it’s just that I’ve been . . . I’ve been busy . . .”
“Give us the journal, that’s a good li’l Robot Boy.”
“No! Dark Klown, that’s private!”
“Oh, now he ‘as private things ‘e keeps from us!”
“Oh and such BIG words for a little Robot Boy! But Punk Tuba Clown has a few tricks left up her little old sleeve, a few tricks that even a big strong Robot Boy hasn’t seen . . . yet.”
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