Alright? I’m Tyler, Scott’s best mate. He’s been nagging me to do a blog for ages and is now threatening to eat my brain if I don’t so I’m doing one just to shut him up. I was like “What do I have to write?” He was like “I dunno. Just what it’s like having a zombie as a best mate.” A zombie as a best mate. Makes me sound like I couldn’t get anyone living to fill the post. But Scott and I have been mates all our lives so I couldn’t exactly dump him when he died. Would’ve seemed a bit heartless. Though he’s giving me countless reasons why I should. Like threatening to eat my brain. When he first changed I had to wear a motorbike helmet for a month cos he kept trying to crack my head open like it’s a f***ing Easter egg. He reckons sleeping in it was extreme. No, trying to eat my brain’s extreme.
I can handle the whole him being dead thing. Not that he gives me the choice, but I draw the line at helping him catch his food. All he sees is the brain, sitting in their skulls like some precious jewel in a glass case. Reckons he’s setting them free by eating them. Freak. I also draw the line at watching him get embalmed. Ok, I know he hates having it done, but he wouldn’t need it done so often if he didn’t keep losing his limbs. There are some things mates shouldn’t watch other mates doing. Getting embalmed’s one of them. Watching them cut off the top of someone’s head’s another. Then he goes and meets that giant werepanther, Ethan, who’s only too willing to go ‘hunting’ with him so Scott keeps threatening me with demotion. You can’t demote your best mate just cos he won’t kill people with you. I’ve told him I’ll take him to a tribunal if he tries. Or lace his next brain with peanuts. That’s another thing I’ve had to put up with – him cooking his damn brains the microwave. I made him buy a new one, his ‘brainwave’ as I call it. There’s no way I’m eating food out of the same mircrowave that he uses.
I did get a cool power out of the lightning bolt that resurrected him – I have compulsion & telekinesis so I can make people do what I want and move things with my mind. It’s f***ing sweet! He seems to be taking the zombie thing a bit too well. He actually enjoys it. He’s got this range of t-shirts with different zombie slogans on it. Talk about advertising it. And he’s got a list of ‘people I want to eat’. I’m at the top. I’ve seen it. I’ve also see the way he looks at me. Like I’m some kind of big chocolate brain cake.
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