THERE’S NO REASONING WITH AN ANGRY MOB OF ZOMBIES
Okay, this is where the story started, if you can remember that far back. If not, it might be worth reminding everyone of the situation.
Watching from an upstairs window, I said my prayers and hoped that the mob would stop short of actually killing me, but I couldn’t rule it out. The only comfort I had was that the zombie mob wasn’t made up of real zombies, just an entire town of enraged partygoers who had been frightened half to death by an animatronic bunyip. They still wanted to rip me limb from limb, but at least they probably wouldn’t eat me, too.
I don’t know how they knew it was me, but maybe they’d just give me a very stern lecture and tell me not to do it again. Maybe when they got real close, they’d see that deep down I was a nice guy and they’d rethink their plans for bloody retribution.
Or, then again, maybe they wouldn’t.
And that was just a few of the nicer things they said. Some of the more colorful ones can’t be repeated here. A woman dressed as Tinker Bell, whom I recognized as the local librarian, was swearing so much I thought her head was going to explode.
“Oh, boy,” Leo muttered. “This is worse than I thought.”
“Gee, is that supposed to cheer me up?” I turned around, but Leo had vanished. Even my imaginary brother had chickened out.
I leaned closer to the window and saw Biff Coogan below me, standing outside the front door, arguing with the ringleaders. I couldn’t hear much of what Biff was saying, but I think he was pointing out that, while I probably deserved anything they were suggesting as punishment, he, Biffly Algernon Coogan, mayor of Shark’s Bay, could not stand by and watch his American guest being torn limb from limb.
“Think of the publicity!” Biff reasoned. “And the mess! The police will want to know what happened to him.”
“No, we won’t!” a man dressed as a punk rocker said. “I’m Sergeant Justin Carter Hatfield, and most of the department is already here.”
“And the fire department,” someone else shouted.
“Everyone’s here, Biff!” Sergeant Hatfield said. “So let us at the little blot, and we’ll see he gets what’s coming!”
Biff was clearly jolted by the unexpected appearance of the Shark’s Bay Police Department, but he did a good job of not letting it show. He crossed his arms and jutted out his chin defiantly. “Now, that might be the case, Justin, but it’s still no way for a town to b—”
“There he is!” Bradley squealed like a pig with a trench full of slops.
Everyone looked up at me, and the effect was like dropping a match on a gasoline-soaked bonfire. A great roar rose from the mob, and all the pitchforks and flaming torches were lifted into the air. The zombies pushed Biff aside like he was made of straw and swarmed toward the door.
