I’m all fresh and newly stitched. While resting in pieces in barbed wire by the outer trenches a germaniac fellow, or possibly austrian, came along. Had himself a nice tower. Stitched me up and sent me along.

Thanks, Frankie! Stein, was it? Frank Stein?

Oh …

Frankenstein!

(Fucking forreigner.)

I stiched meself up.

Missed 4:th of july completely. Felt a bit … scattered.

Becka is nowhere to be seen. I suspect she’s turned alive.

Ok, so you might know I made a stupid, stupid motherfucking son of a bitch fucked up stupid thing a week ago, give or take. Sank my teeth into a live wire with some pretty goddamn high voltage, alright? Zed and Zeke, both related rednecks from somewhere south who drifted along on one of the lumber trains … they’re called lumber trains, ’cause we’re reffered to as “lumber” by the good living folks scared shitless of some walking dead men … they’re rounding us up as soon as they can and sending us off to these, what’rey call’em, “deanimation facilities” … Crematoriums, ok? They’re burning us adead, like …

Anyhowl … as the werewolf said … Ok, so Zed and Zeke fooled me into biting into a mother of an electrical wire, right? I did it, partly as a victim of a prank, mostly as a loyal reanimate (come on! We were about to overtake the Big Apple and had to cut the power). I … kinda burned. Felt pretty crisp afterwards.

And then the strangest thing happened.

When I woke up I felt, like – alive. My skin was pink, me teeth hurt, I saw the world through a totally freakish new set of eyes, right? Shit, I even had to take a leak! I felt like I felt on the day of my desurrection (that’s what we reanimates call it when we stop living and start reanimating)!

Then, why … Well … I just went home. Hitchhiked my way home. Got a ride with a Ryder truck, pretty nice guy until he told med he was pulling lumber to a chrema. Like – I totally brained the motherfucker, alright? Only I couldn’t, as I sank my teeth into his skull I just went “bonk!” – and then my teeth started hurting and then he gave a helluva wopper, right on the cheek!

I woke up in a cell, a prison cell. Some turd of’a local cop took me for a vagrant and then things started out straight into Hell. I should have known the crazy son of a bitch Entragian was a few bricks short of a fireplace in the upper floor, you know?

Tak!

Anyhowl … as the werewolf said … I made my escape while som good folks did their best avoiding getting killed. Found a motorcycle in the desert, fucked off to the nearest town and on my way there I ran into a party of reanimates … unfortunately, they took me for an animate.

I was just about getting used to living, then the fuckers made me a re-reanimate! Now how’s that for a party, folk!? I was lucky to get away undead, I tell you, stupid motherfuckers was all shambles. Pretty old ones, very nasty. I betcha they were like a thousand years old or somethun. All skull and bones, you know. Skeletor Crew, they called themselves.

It took me a long, long time to get back to where my buddies are, only to find the “lumber crews” had allready rounded everybody up and sent them away to the D-fac’s. The fucking monsters got Becky, as well … and I know now what I have to do …

I’m leaving this as a testimony to the time to come. Right now I’m strapped into a flakjacket with some pretty heavy guns in my hands. I’m gonna go in all blazing. You hear me, D-fac 9!? YOU HEAR ME!!?

Here comes the pain!

- – - – -

EDIT: Bloody hell! It wasn’t a crema. It was a fortress!

Re-animate down! Re-animate down! Someone – please gimme a needle and thread! I’m like, blown into pieces. AND I MEAN IT!!!

Really, now I know what it means. I thought I was wasted in the early hours of my prom night, but shit …

Man, I’m totally and possibly forever fucked up beyond recognition.

Mental note:

NEVER EVER grab hold of a 10 000 volt wire with your teeth, just because you reanimated buddies tells you it’s okay, like “ey, man, if Frankenstein and Jason could do it, so can you”.

Right now I’m like a slick rick pimp.

Ssssmoookin’!

He cut me down.

All over you, now. Preachie.

Yum!

She’s not very fond of that expression. I think it’s funny – expecially since there are wherewolves!

Last night me and the Party Posse – former college grad students who accidentally fell into our crowd (sawn through floorboards in an old mansion the stupid fucks thought they’d be safe in) – did our civic duty and busted up a liqour shop who wouldn’t sell booze – or balsamic fluids – to the undead (reanimated, allright? Re-Ani-Mate-Dd!). Found ourselves pretty nice set up an hour later with a couple of Jim’s and a few Jacks and about two cases of 16 ounce tallboys.

If you’d never seen a wasted corpse, you should have seen us then. Fangoria’s got nuthin on us! Teh best part is a reanimate don’t get hung over, he might get hung, but not hung over. He and he … There was a nice she as well, Marybeth, her name was. She kicked for about eight minutes and then we took a bite of her.

She’s a bit depressed now. After all – she was going to a funeral, though she hadn’t had her own in mind.

Oh, please don’t tell Becky bout this. She’s a bit sensitive about things like this. Now, I wonder – does a pamphlette win people over to our side as efficiently as a bite in their head?

Shoddant thiiink soo!

I’m hung ove. Sorry. Some guys came around this morning and caught me offhand. Now they’ve hung me over a river. Cut me some slack, allright!?

(I dictated this. Joe, a big as hell lumberer who suffered reanimation some twelve weeks ago, is writing this down. Hi, Joe! How’s it hangin!?)

Zee hang pretty good. /Joe.

So I tried giving them pamphlets. “Brain is good for you”.

Well, needless to say, the hunters moved along at their usual pace. Pausing at nothing to slaughter us undead. Finally a boy in his twenties had me cornered and all I had for defense was a bunch of pamphlets. I tried reasoning, but he was adamant in his conviction to cut my head off. So I did what I had to. I stomped my foot and tried to impart the importance of understanding on him. Unfortunately, we fell through a rotten floorboard, so I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to get out of a basement. After all, a young man only lasts so long before being all… used up.

Now my tummy hurts.

It must have been a mad cow, it kinda looked at me in a funny way and said:

“You talking to me? You talking to me!? I don’t see anyone else around, you gotta be talking to me!”

Limbs everywhere, this relocation really played havoc on some of the oldtimers.

Last night we caught some guys from the chessvlub, down at the junior high.

Check out the brain on Brett!

Yum.

Just as we’ve settled down in a suburban hood next to a big city, those damned zombiehunters show up!

We’ve moved again. Lost some sixhundred of our kin in the process. Some of them were staked adead, or burned to a cinder.

I just hope Becky is allright.