Tag Archives: Humour

‘Who Says Necrophilia’s Dead?’ An Undead Dating Show, for ‘Five Sentence Fiction.’

22 Sep

Lillie McFerrin: Five Sentence Fiction

“Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.”

If zombie-based fiction were a steak brought to my table at a restaurant, I would not complain that,  ‘It’s a little on the over-done side,’ rather I would say, ‘Garçon, from which infernal pit did you dig up this abominable lump of carbon and why has it been set on fire?’ Or something not remotely like that sentence at all.

The point being, zombie fiction has been done and done to the extent that it often comes across as burnt steak to me.
However, steak being delicious, and all, sometimes the hunger just proves too much to bear and you just have to dig in and ravenously savour the succulent morsels. Um, yeah…right. So. To the fiction-mobile!

Who Say’s Necrophilia’s Dead?

Welcome to ‘Who Says Necrophilia’s Dead?’ – the smash-hit undead dating show that everybody’s moaning about.

Today, our love-bones from last week, Mordecai and Rottie, tell us how what started with an innocent buffet breakfast at the local shopping mall turned into a romantic flesh-eating hunt for two at the hospital.

“Well Die-Anne, it was as sweet as the flesh of the newborn; Mordecai was such a gentleman, he even let me chase down the patients from the geriatric unit while they hobbled over to the escape chopper where he waited for them with a bunch of “Get well soon” begonias.

.”That sounds mortifyingly magical, Rottie, but I know that what our shamblers in attendance today and the hordes watching at home really want to sink their teeth into is the juicy gossip on what happened in the crypt that night.”

“As a man no longer in the flesh of his prime, I’m not sure if what I did to Rottie that dark stormy night can described as sex anymore, it’s more a case of rubbing together and seeing what comes off, I guess, but mark my words there were moans and groans from Mordecai’s Mausoleum fit to raise the dead.”