Darllyne was a vain woman in life, even when it all went to hell after a yacht full of zombies washed up on our shores and started an epidemic, her first priority was her looks. She tended her wig, like a treasured pet, but time took it’s tole and the thing now looked like a bicycle helmet under which her professionally made face would glow.
So it’s no real shock that in death, the wig very much still on straight, through hours of her endless lifeless shuffle though the paddock I’ve built for her. Even when she is struggling to get at me through the wooden fence posts and paddock wire, the wig is still straight. One time I swear I even say her halt a haunting moan to straighten the thing.
Yes Darllyne was a vain woman and that was a trait she carried over into death. You would think that Daryllyne would also have a ton of gentlemen callers, being that she was a pretty woman, but alas that was not the case. Being High of standard and low on pickings made for a lonely life if one was single.
Darllyne was my friend, but I was tired of telling her to please give it a rest. Spending all she had on Armani and Prada ship by plane and boat, she made quite the impression on all the lowly gentlemen with whom she would never cavort. Not she. A woman of her standing in the society, a bank teller, a church sister, a woman of standing. Unless it was carnival time, when she let the body she had spent all of four months in the gym hang out in the skimpiest costume the most popular mass troupe had to offer.
Darllyne was my scandalous friend, well not really, I have a feeling that all the rumors that went on about her were of her own making. The most scandalous thing I ever saw her do outside of playing mass was getting drunk on my couch watching sex and the city. I became especially suspicious when she told me the rumors continued even after all her co-workers had become a horde and ambled down Market street after us one fateful afternoon.
But seems like Darllyne is doing better now in the man department that when she had higher brain function. This one zombie was so persistent he managed to dislodge an arm in the fence trying to get into the paddock, but she being who she was just shuffled off to the other side moaning softly in a condescending kind of way. You know the way. So it went for a few weeks and now the far side of the fence is littered with discarded parts, mementos of would be undead lovers.
But now there is one, shuffling outside my fence, dressed in Marc Jacobs, which I must admit has stood up very well to the riggers of the dead struggle.
And Darllyne is suffling close to that side too. Perfectly content to moan and groan back and forth with him, he never coming close enough to rumple his threads.
“You should let her out you know? Let her be free with another hoity toity smaddy like she.” Josiah Whispered in my ear, coming up behind me in a hug. “After all, look all wha had to happen for she to find a man.”
In response to the Zombie Apocalypse 268 Challenge