My official website is a dead zombie duck wandering the internet wasteland looking for brains and finding none, especially on facebook. This blog was started as a random drawing/story project about proto feminist zombies...er yeh seemed like a good idea at the time. Now it is just a blog about my art in general with the occasional feminist zombie thrown in

Tuesday 17 December 2013

how not to play a Kramer 450 g


I couldn't afford to buy a Travis Bean, or an Electrical Guitar Company guitar, but (at the time) I could afford to buy a Kramer 450g (after a year long search on Ebay). This video is how not to play said guitar....sorry to anyone who either has ears, or owns and plays guitar well, I just like dissonance!

Friday 6 December 2013


a page from an old sketchbook

www.sketchbookproject.com/users/jonprocter



Tuesday 3 December 2013


burn a thousand bridges
grind it down to dust
let the flowers bloom
grow out and over 
a garden city
a bloom as red as rust


Saturday 30 November 2013


I opened my hands
and from them flew a bird
it soared to the heavens
never to return


Wednesday 27 November 2013


A sketchy drawing from yesterday, first one in quite awhile. Isn't my best but is a start to getting back into drawing again.

Tuesday 26 November 2013

Well I did do a drawing today but can't decided whether or not it is awful! I guess I haven't seriously drawn anything in a year at least so like anything if you don't keep it up your skill goes. I'll look at it tomorrow and decide after a sleep whether to post it up here or, burn it and start over. In the meantime here are two old pictures. One is a detail from a painting called 'the fall' the other is a page from a sketchbook done for the sketchbook project NY.

Go to: http://www.sketchbookproject.com/users/jonprocter/artwork to see more stuff I did for the sketchbook project.



improvisation through practice amp without any effects apart from some fire


orange coloured concrete over rain soaked streets
cracked tiled steps under aching feet
broken building walls and forest canopies
can you explain how all this came to be
unnatural urban jungle of grey cold stone
overbearing neon alienating everyone
this grey cold stone
grey cold stone
burying everyone
we
 are 
 the 
 foundation
of 
a
ruined
tomorrow

breaking practice amp+bad guitarist+monkey wearing glasses=bad freakout monkey music


I'm planning on doing a drawing today, don't know exactly what it will be yet but think I will go with a music themed piece. ATP was pretty amazing and inspiring, really great to see some excellent live music.

Highlights for me would be seeing LOW for the first time, they were just incredible, delicate at times and then growing to all out fuzz distortion apocalyptic destruction. Lee Ranaldo and the Dust were also really great, I saw them awhile back at the Brudenell in Leeds they killed it there and really killed it at ATP too. They are crazy tight and the songs Lee is writing post sonic youth are really amazing and heart felt.

Chelsea Light Moving were great too, it is interesting to see what each member of sonic youth is doing now. While Lee Ranaldo has gone down almost a classic rock band sound with occasional noise freakout thrown in for good messure, Thurston has seemingly traveled back in time to no-wave New York and is creating songs made from scraping all the sonic memories caught in the walls of CBGB's. The results of both bands are, in my mind, amazing and soften the blow of never seeing sonic youth again. CLM makes me want to go out and buy a fuzz and octave distortion and bring the house down around me through sonic warfare. (Groovy and Linda being a definite inspiration there ''DON'T SHOOT!! WE ARE YOUR CHILDREN!! DON'T SHOOT!!'') The dust make me want to actually learn to play guitar...ha.

Anyway before this blog becomes some pretentious naval gazing music review blog (as if anyone reads it or gives a shit and as opposed to it being a pretentious naval gazing doodle blog no one actually looks at or reads) I'll just say that other band highlights were: PORN, mum, magik markers, the haxan cloak and seeing mr Har Mar superstar selling massages in the merch shop and people actually fucking buying them.

Anyway here are some older pictures I did a while back for an exhibition in Helmsley, I'm going to dust them off and take them to a Vintage  Pop Up shop in Birmingham and hopefully somebody will like them enough to buy them.








Monday 25 November 2013

Well, It's been a long time since I last made a post on here. It's been a bit of a crappy year and I've not really been drawing too much. I'm hoping to get a lovely digital camera for Christmas which will help me document and upload some of my bigger paintings. So I will be putting some of them up and hopefully getting my painting mojo back and doing some large scale canvas paintings again. (I've started one so far and another 3 are halfway done)

In the meantime I may dust of the old brush pen and do a picture tomorrow and upload it, wonders will never cease.

I've just got back from 3 days of alcohol intoxication at All Tomorrows Parties festival and feel mentally and physically drained but very happy. Saw lots of great bands and got to be with some old friends. While drunk and lying on the floor I wrote a bad poem on my mobile:

We are building houses of venom,
my hands are cut,
but they spill no blood.

I coil them gently around your neck,
and
squeeze.

Above is the zenith,
not far above.

We can accomplish any goal,
kill ourselves,
quick or slow.

Preprogrammed virtual destinations,
to travel without moving,
and arrive screaming,

Covered in guilt.

         Soaked in blood.

Just follow the yellow line and go,
everywhere,
nowhere.

These are our forests,
turned to wood.

When all the horizons point to zero,
a no real destination.

All beginnings just mark an end,
you,
   
      have,

              arrived.




Sunday 21 July 2013

old sketchbook

About a year ago I did this sketchbook as part of the sketchbook project NY. Seeing as i haven't had too much time to post any zombie pics, enjoy this post apocalyptic tale instead. The story is in the right order but the covers and inside covers are at the end. Enjoy!?...

There are also some older sketchbooks from previous years here: http://www.sketchbookproject.com/users/jonprocter/artwork

Should you be lucky enough to live in NY city you can actually visit the art house co-op library and see my books along with many many other peoples too. I have 3 books there altogether. 
The address of the Brooklyn art library is: 103 A North 3rd st, Brooklyn, NY, 11249. They are open 12-8pm everyday. My book numbers are #50500, #S53745 and #S70630. I have never been but I think if you have my name and numbers you can find my sketchbooks as they are all bar coded and what not.























Thursday 18 July 2013

More movie night posters for Dead meet York.

My friend Greg 'pickles' Parsons has been keeping me busy again with more poster designs for his movie nights in York. Here are two drawings for Braindead and Nosferatu. Lord knows when I am going to start drawing zombie girls again. I am planning on starting some large scale paintings again, seeing as the weather is nice and I can paint in the yard! ( I am too poor to afford a studio) When i get them done I will post some on here. Yup, maybe i can squeeze a zombie picture out of my breainbox soon too....




Saturday 13 July 2013

poster n what not

My friend Greg from York U.K is putting on some more movie nights at the Duchess this month and also in August. The blob is in August and The Thing will be shown in July. It's a great night with competitions and free popcorn so support this great event if you live locally and get down and see some awesome films! Here are the posters for the events with some doodles done by me.




Also here are the original pictures I doodled. I tried a bit of photoshop colouring in with the blob one. It's a bit hashed as i don't have a mouse, or a good computer...or a good version of photoshop! But i am making excuses.


Finally here is a t-shirt design for the very same Greg's band. I basically had to look at research pictures of people who have committed suicide with shotguns...which was nice. Should be on a t-shirt and available at all good R.S.J gigs soon!

Finally I have been a bit crap at putting more stories and drawings up on here for awhile. It's a little disheartening to have zero feedback and lots of page views from robot hacking programs from Russia....I am going to get some more up on here when I have time. But I found a lost duckling recently and have adopted it! So have my hands full being a mother ducker! If anyone wants more stories let me know and I will get some doodles done.

Jon P

Sunday 12 May 2013

My good friend Greg recently asked me to doodle a picture for a movie night he is putting on in York UK from June. Here is the original drawing and the flyer he made, if you're in the York area drop down and watch some horror films and get some free pop corn!




More dead girls coming soon when i have chance to draw some more!

Sunday 28 April 2013



Ever since they were children Marie and Susan had wanted to be pilots. Most of their friends and parents just laughed at them playing in the garden with toy planes, they'd make comments that they would be better off playing at air hostess' and to get their heads out of the clouds. There was one person who encouraged them all the way and told them they could be anything they wanted to be, it was Susan's grandfather Charlie. He'd been a pilot in WW2 and come back to England a changed man. He'd also come back to a changed country, with women taking jobs in factories in the men's absence he found England to be a new and exciting country and he liked it. He thought there was nothing his granddaughter and her friend shouldn't be able to do if they really wanted to do it.

It was a hard slog through pilot training, but they both got there after lots of perseverance and putting up with endless sexual innuendo from their fellow fly boys. The only problem was there were no major airlines that would take them on, full pilots licence or not this was 1970's England and sexual equality was still a long way off. Susan's grandfather was old and frail by the time she got her full licence, but he still had enough fight in him to be absolutely livid when he found out about the unfair treatment Susan was having to put up with.  He knew she was twice the pilot of those toffee nosed sods and could fly circles around the bloody lot of them! So he came up with an idea, if no airline would take them on as full pilots then by god they should start their own airline. He'd worked hard all his life and invested wisely and was planning on giving Susan a large inheritance when he died. Instead of having to wait for him to kick the bucket he decided to give Susan her inheritance now, not in cash but in the form of a light aircraft! It was a only a small plane, a six seat cargo and haulage plane. Susan and Marie were over the moon when he took them to the airport and they opened the private hanger to reveal the plane. It was small and a little rusty but they loved it immediately.

Their first jobs together were mostly haulage, taking cargo and packages back and forth across the channel to Europe. Susan was the captain of the aircraft and boss of the company, Marie was a good pilot but could sometimes be a little nervous in heavy weather, so she was happy with her place as co-pilot. Susan knew that one day Marie would be able to Captain her own plane, she had the skills but just lacked the confidence. 

Over time their company went from strength to strength, they invested in more and more cargo planes and took on more staff. They were equal opportunity employers and took on men and women in all kinds of roles. It was not until the late eighties that they took the step of buying their first commercial passenger aircraft. They couldn't compete with the big companies so decided to try the other end of the market and go for high end air travel. Limited flights for an exclusive clientele with a small number of aircraft to business destinations. It really worked and slowly but surely they built up a reputation for excellent and punctual service.

Marie and Susan still flew a lot of the flights themselves, it was the flying that they really loved and they tried to keep doing it as much as possible between all the board meetings and business plans. It was one such flight from London to New York that their friendship was tested to breaking point and beyond.

Everything had been going quite smoothly, they'd taken off from London on time and were making good time to New York. It was a late night haul and the in Flight meal had been served to the passengers and crew and now most of the passengers were settling down to sleep. They were about two hours from New York when the head Stewardess came screaming over the intercom. It was so shrill it made Marie almost jump out of her seat. She was screaming something about a passenger gone crazy attacking everyone. She continued to yell and scream until their ear sets went dead. Marie turned to Susan, she looked pale and pretty shook up. Susan got up to look through the spy hole of the cabin door, she turned to Marie with a sick look on her face. She told Marie that it looked like a blood bath in there, she said she was going to go in and see if she could help get any staff and unhurt passengers to the rear of the plane and was going to try to restrain the violent passenger. Meanwhile she wanted Marie to get in touch with New York control tower and tell them what was going on and see if they could be diverted to a closer airport. But Marie just sat there stunned for a minute staring at Susan, she spoke in a slow monotone voice, almost as if she was in a dream. She told Susan that if anyone should go out there it should be her, it was much better that Susan stay in control of the aircraft and radio the tower. Before Susan could protest Marie had already got up and gone out the door into the blood drenched cabin. 

Half an hour passed without a single noise coming over the intercom. Susan was getting worried, she'd contacted the control tower and got them diverted to Boston airport. Emergency services were waiting for them to land, they wanted more information on how many people had been injured but from the cockpit Susan had no way of knowing what the hell was going on. She put the plane on autopilot and looked through the spy hole again, the cabin was smoky and it was hard to see anything at all, but suddenly a horrible figure loomed into view....


Susan jumped back in horror, she felt the blood drain from her body and felt faint. Again she moved her eye to the spy hole, this time the face was much much closer and much much clearer...

It was Marie's uniform but that couldn't be Marie, this thing didn't even look human. It moved in horrible jolting rhythms, it's limbs seemed to have a life of their own. Slashing and hammering around the cabin in random spasms this monster couldn't be Marie! Susan was transfixed, she watched in growing horror as the monster dragged itself towards a passenger who was lying unconscious on the floor, it straddled the passengers body and began to rip pieces of flesh from their face in huge chunks and eat them. Susan screamed out and hammered at the door, for a second she opened the cockpit door and moved towards the thing. But it raised its head with an awful snap and turned to look at her. Those eyes pierced through her, all yellow and glowing they shook Susan to the bone. It let out the most guttural wailing scream that pinned Susan to the spot with fear. The thing bolted for Susan, if the radio hadn't crackled into life snapping her out of her paralysing fear she would never of made it back into the cockpit in time.

The thing hammered at the door, kicking scratching and screaming all bloody murder on the other side. Susan thought there was no f**king way it would get through. Those doors are bullet proof, just as she took her seat back at the controls the door began to bend and dent. Susan knew it wouldn't hold until they got to Boston, she also knew she did not want to unleash that thing by landing anywhere near a populated space. She decided to do an emergency landing, she put a message out for whatever passengers and crew where left alive to brace and prepare for an emergency landing. She put the plane into a steep dive and began to bring it down into the frozen wastes of north America, she knew even if she survived this crash she'd still be in the middle of no where. She sent out a message to air traffic control of her current position and what the hell was going on. She knew they wouldn't believe her and this would probably be the end of her career.
She leveled the plane out and could see a frozen valley bathed in moonlight ahead, she just had time to think about how much this was going to hurt when the cockpit door smashed in.


The monster dove at Susan, she banked the plane sharply to the left throwing the monster of its feet and smashing it into the cockpit window, cabin pressure was lost, the wind lashed in and shards of icy rain cut at Susan's face. The plane rolled onto its side, she was loosing control. At that moment she remembered her Grandfather's face, he always believed in her no matter what, she grabbed the controls and pulled the aircraft level. The monster had been thrown to the back of the cockpit, it clawed its way towards Susan and was just about to sink its teeth into her neck when the plane smashed into the ground.


The plane sheared its way across the frozen ground, Susan could hear rocks ripping at the fuselage grinding and cutting through the metal. The aircraft seemed to scream out in pain as Susan put the engines into full reverse to try and slow them down as they barreled down the icy mountainside. The plane must have slid 200 meters when it snapped in half, the cockpit and part of the cabin spun away as the engines exploded in a shower of aviation fuel, the monster was being tossed all over the cockpit, but was still trying to grab at Susan, she was bracing in her seat now, there was nothing else she could do. The side of the cockpit smashed into a rock face and tore away, jolting the monster upwards and knocking it out of the cockpit, a few seconds later the front of the plane came to a sudden halt in a snow bank.

Susan woke up a few minutes later, her head was bleeding and her right arm was broken. She was shaken up but managed to pry herself out of the seat and onto the floor. The plane was a f**king right off, she thought the boys back at the hangar would never let her hear the end of this, then she thought of Marie and began to cry. That thing couldn't have been Marie she thought, there was no way it was her. Making a strap with her tie she tied her broken arm tight to her chest. The pain was excruciating but she managed to drag herself out of the wrecked plane and onto the snowy ground. She could see how far they had slid down the mountain, the burning wreckage lit up the whole valley, the flames licking up into the cold night sky towards the stars. Then she saw a dark figure move in front of the flames and she froze in terror.


It was Marie, she could see her ravaged uniform and her co-pilot stripes. The thing began to limp over towards Susan, dark blood pouring from its mouth, as it grew closer Susan noticed it was wading through a pool of aviation fuel on the ground, she fumbled through her pockets and pulled out a lighter her Grandfather had left her in his will, inscribed into its silver metal were a pair of angel wings. She flicked it open and lit it and threw it as hard as she could towards the monster. The aviation fuel went up in a flash, cremating her former friend and co-pilot in seconds. Susan flopped back into the cold snow, and passed out.


Monday 22 April 2013

So after a couple of months of doing this blog i have become curious....who (if anyone) is reading this nonsense coming from my brain hole? I want to know who you people are? Where are you? What country are you from? How did you find this blog? Do you like this blog? Do you like the stories so far and where it is going? I don't know, i guess i would just like to know that all the page hits i am getting aren't from internet robots and from actual fleshy real people who like the silly drawings and even sillier stories. Basically if you can spare even 5 minutes of your time to leave a comment or write to me via my gmail profile i'd really appreciate it. Thanks so much and I have another story in the pipeline and am planning on doing a few more pictures for the next one and making it more in depth. So may take a bit longer than usual as sometimes my brain freaks out and I start to draw like a five year old.

Thanks for reading.

Jon P

P.S

That is me without hair or skin...

Saturday 13 April 2013




 There isn't much that can't be bought, sold or commodified these days. Why would a rampaging plague of zombies be any different from your favourite pop group, T.V show or any other piece of mass consumerist crap sold to you via branded prepackaged pieces of plastic made in China? We all need to make a quick buck! So how the heck do you make money from zombies? Zombie tourism of course!

Fifty years after the zombie outbreak most major cities had been abandoned to the zombie hordes. With over population and cramped conditions, cities were a breeding ground for the zombie epidemic, the virus moved quickly through the populace. Survivors moved to more remote areas, leaving the cities behind to be surrounded by the military. Cities that were near to natural resources were spared from being nuked out of existence, instead they were cordoned off and contained behind 50 foot high quarantine walls made of concrete and steel. Slowly but surely the military moved through the cities clearing out the plague street by street. This was a slow and dangerous process, top generals estimated that in another 30 years they could contain some of the worst hit places and make them habitable to humans again. Once they had been completely quarantined the walls once holding the zombies in would keep any other zombies out, making the cities into giant walled safe zones that could once again become gleaming monuments to capitalism and industry.

In the meantime one person saw the cities not as dangerous no go areas but as a business opportunity. Andras Bron Rich was a wild entrepreneur known for his rock and roll antics and crazy business ideas. Wealthy beyond most peoples dreams he had everything he could ever want, but he was terminally bored and always looking for the next extreme business adventure. He sold his vast rail and airline network to the military at a loss in order to secure sole civilian access to the dangerous walled cities.

His idea was pretty simple, people love death and destruction when they are witnessing it from a safe distance, think about all the people holding up traffic looking at a car crash in the opposite lane, ya know that kinda base human condition was one he could get behind! So why not turn the zombie infested cities into a safari experience, think secure cars driving through the ravaged metropolis looking at the ruined buildings and drooling zombies. And if mom and pop want to shoot a few zombies with high powered rifles then for a price they can do that too! Think jurassic park without the dinosaurs and sh*tty effects and bad sequels, but with way more profit. Basically the whole zombie outbreak had been a bit traumatic for most people, running for your life and seeing family members ripped to shreds gets old pretty quick. So getting a bit of revenge and getting it from a safe place was most peoples idea of the perfect vacation. Sure some high brow types said it was in bad taste, but Andras just sold them the idea that what he was actually doing was a Ballardian tour of post apocalyptic society, a kind of post modern comment on the degradation of mass consumerist civilisation....or some such bullshi*t.

Within the first three years he'd made 200 million dollars across 14 different sites on several continents. Business was booming. Andras wasn't the type of man to rest on his laurels. Just because he had success didn't mean that things didn't need improving, he decided to take a personal look at the New York branch of zombland safari park. Since the out break Manhattan had been completely sealed off. Being one of the jewels in Andras' business crown he got the military to agree to not start clearing the infestation there for at least 20 years. He'd grown up in New York and always knew it would one day be his personal play ground. He took a private helicopter from his secure fortress at Block island wildlife refuge to Manhattan island. He landed and headed to the central offices. Meeting up with his chief of security Michael Dengler he informed him he wanted to take a personal tour with one of the drivers. The driver wasn't to know he was Andras Bron Rich, he wanted a untainted view of the safari experience to see what was working and what wasn't.

Maria was just about to clock off when the radio fizzed into life, it was Charlie her foreman telling her she had one more tour to do today. It must be one of those f**king late bookings, these uber rich jerks always make specialist bookings late in the day and of course they pay top dollar and get what they want. Unfortunately for Maria she didn't get any over time pay for doing this and being one of the few drivers who drove the smaller jeep tours, she was stuck doing it. She had enough problems at the moment and really couldn't be f**ked with this. Pulling the jeep around into the tourist loading bay Maria stared at her passenger, it couldn't be, was it really him? Sh*t it was him. The back door of the jeep opened up and he got in. He introduced himself as Tony and said he was really looking forward to the zombie tour. Maria turned around in her seat and told him she needed to just go fuel up before they headed out, she asked him if he would like to shoot any of the zombies today, because if so she'd also pick up some ammo. He said he wouldn't mind so they headed over to the garage before they ventured into the undead metropolis. Maria couldn't believe who was sat in the back of her jeep, a plan began to form in her mind.

One hour later they'd made their way south of central park through zombie infested streets, ''Tony'' had wanted to shoot a few zombies but Maria told him she knew a really good sniper spot so he should wait. She'd put on the usual vid tour tape but he'd insisted on asking her lots of irritating questions so she had to turn it off and actually talk to the ass. Thankfully it was at this point the car engine cut out. Maria made a song and dance of trying to start it over knowing full well why it was dead. ''Tony'' asked her if everything was alright, she told him to climb into the front and lock the back cage. He clambered over the seat and locked the cage separating the driver and passenger compartment. ''Tony'' grabbed the radio and started trying to call central to get another vehicle over to pick them up, the radio was dead too. Turning to her he looked flustered, he explained to her he wasn't Tony at all, he was Andras Bron Rich CEO of all she could see. He went on to say that there would be a hell of a lot of money in it for her if she could get him back safely to the central offices.

Maria took a deep breath and explained what was going on, she knew damn well who he was all along. He was Andras Bron Rich multimillionaire playboy businessman. He owned this entire island and had a monopoly on the zombie tourism business. He was the reason she'd been on less than minimum wage these last two years, he was the reason corners had been cut regarding staff safety at all the zombland tourist resorts. He was also the asshole who's bio-medical company had developed a suppressant to the zombie infection, the same asshole who's same asshole company sold the same f*cking suppressant for $5000 a dose. She informed him she syphoned petrol from the tank instead of filling it up, emptied the gun of bullets and took all the batteries out of the radio. She also informed him she had been bitten four days ago and would probably turn any time now. Finally she told him she had gone completely off the tourist route and also shoved her jeeps G.P.S into another vehicle that was touring the northern sector of the island.

Andras flipped, he grabbed the rifle and pointed it at Maria, he repeatedly clicked the trigger. Grabbing the rifle by the barrel Maria forced the shoulder stock into Andas' chest winding him. She then picked up the radio and smashed it into his face knocking him out cold. She felt calm now, he may wake up soon but it wouldn't matter, his fate was sealed. Sounding the horn several times Maria sat and waited, from the dark shadows and doorways all around them staggering figures appeared and surrounded the car. Attracted by the noise they began to scrape and bang on the windows and rock the car. Maria felt faint, her whole body felt hot and cold at once, she looked in the rear view mirror and saw tears of blood flowing from her eyes...

...Andras opened his eyes and felt an awful pain in his head, he rubbed at his face and felt something wet on his hands. A low growl emanated to his left, he looked over to see Maria's rotten zombie face, teeth bared diving towards him...





Saturday 6 April 2013


Monica had drawn the short straw, it would be her turn to run around in a bright pink bunny outfit chased by hundreds of screaming kids this year. Monica worked at Buddy Woody Beaver's super happy fun camp world of adventure land, it was Easter and it was one of the busiest times of year.

Every year the staff dreaded bunny duty, you'd have to be super smiley happy all day and pass out chocolate eggs to all the kids in the theme park. This usually involved being punched, kicked and snotted on by all the screaming little monsters. Not to mention being reprimanded by angry mothers and fathers if their hateful offspring didn't get as many eggs as the other kids.

Monica was hung over that morning, she'd been out on the town the night before and had one too many shots and cocktails. Feeling really hanging and grim and knowing she'd pulled bunny duty she was thinking about calling in and pulling a sicky, but she knew she was on her last chance with the manager and he would probably fire her. There was nothing else for it, she would have to try a hangover cure. She decided to try a prairie oyster, cracking a raw egg into a glass, adding a little salt and pepper, a dash of Worcestershire sauce and a couple of dashes of Tabasco...holding her nose and necking it back. Bleaurgh!

Monica didn't know that the egg she chose to use had come from a infected zombie chicken. She took a cold shower, threw on some clothes and made a rather rocky drive to work all the while the zombie egg was making its way through her system.

By the time she arrived at work she was feeling a little flushed and faint, but she put that down to the drink and got changed into her lovely bunny outfit. The manager came in and told her to be on form today, handed her a basket full of eggs and told her to get out there and give it her all. He then gave her a quick sniff and asked her if she'd been drinking. She of course denied this and got the hell out of there and into the theme park before he could realise she was still clearly sh*t faced. Making her way around the back of the coconut shack she sat on a bale of hay and pulled a hip flask of whiskey out of her bunny suit and took a swig. The hangover cure wasn't doing sh*t so maybe hair of the dog would do it, she had about ten minutes before the theme park opened and filled with brats. Her head feeling like a bag of smashed crabs she took another shot from the hip flask and gave out a massive belch, sparked up a cigarette and tried to get herself together.

Around an hour later the manager was stalking around trying to find out what the hell had happened to Monica, she hadn't been seen all morning and hadn't handed out any eggs to the kids, he had twenty parents asking where the hell the Easter bunny was and demanding an egg for their putrid little kids. He'd checked everywhere, around the smoking hide away behind the Buddy Woody Beaver log flume, by the staff make out place behind the bubble gum shop and even under the Super Woody roller coaster where he once found Janice from tills and Roy the cleaner having sex one bank holiday Monday. Finally he took a look around the back of the coconut shack, he found Monica slumped over on a bale of hay, a string of vomit oozing out of her face into a dirty great pool on the ground. He couldn't see her face but knew his hunch this morning that she had been drinking was right, damn he was a good manager and he always knew when his staff were lying to him. He made his way over and tapped her on the shoulder. He was just about to reprimand her when she twisted her head around and with an awful crack snapped her neck, he took a step back in shock. She sat there with her body facing one way and her head lolling at him, her face had rotted away exposing bone and rotten flesh. She looked quite the sight in a bright pink bunny outfit with a skull for a face and her head on the wrong way around. She snapped her body around with a click and jumped to her feet, a dark patch of p*ss appeared on the manager's trousers. Monica hissed  from clenched rotten teeth and jumped onto her manager, raking her teeth down his face she tore off his nose and lips. He fell bloodied to the ground clutching at what remained of his face. Monica made short work of the rest of him and made her way out to the theme park. Hundreds of kids were running riot all around, it was like a zombie pick and mix!

Around three hours later Monica stood in a pool of blood and guts, smashed chocolate eggs and kids skulls littered the ground. She'd had the best day at work ever and not only that but her hangover had completely gone! She got onto the Buddy Woody Beaver log flume and took a pleasure ride in the now blood red water and drank a shot of blood and whiskey from a child's skull.





Wednesday 27 March 2013


It was beginning of November and the family made their annual trip to Devanira's grave. The entire family were there as part of the traditional mexican day of the dead to celebrate her life and remember her fondly. Her father laid a wreath of marigold over her gravestone while her mother placed three bottles of tequila by her grave. Her husband and two children had brought hand painted toy skulls which they also placed around Devanira's grave. They sat together and joined hands each taking a moments silence to think about the times they had spent with her.

Every year since the car crash it had been like this, at first it was difficult for the family to cope with the grief of such a sudden and violent loss. But each year it got a little easier and the pain was replaced with happy memories of her life. They remembered all the times she had been kind to them, all the selfless things she had done for her children and husband while she was alive and all joy she had brought to her parents.

Each year a member of the family would make a speech about Devanira, recalling a special moment or anecdote from her life. This year it was her fathers turn to talk, he was halfway through a lengthy speech about Devanira's beauty, warmth and kindness when he was interrupted by a rumbling under his feet. Loosing his balance and falling into his wife's ample breast he swore loudly to the amusement of the children. Their laughs soon stopped when a horrible cacophony of moans came from the graves around them. Other families began to run in fear as their long dead loved ones began clawing their way out of  their stinking resting places. Soon hundreds of undead were rampaging around the graveyard, eating anyone foolish enough to get caught in their path.

Devanira's father was in shock, still nestled in his wife's bosom he turned to see a skeletal hand push its way out of the earth, she clawed at the dirt and her awful skeletal head appeared. Her hair was still as black as night, but most of her flesh had rotted away, leaving an awful skeletal monstrosity of what she used to be. She had pulled herself out up to her waist and managed to grab one of the children's legs pulling the screaming pee stained brat towards her gaping mouth. She took a massive bite out of the child's calf tearing away muscle and tendons. The child collapsed in horror as the father managed to pull him away from his hell banshee of a spouse. Devanira noticed the tequila and grabbed a bottle, smashing the top off she poured it into her gaping jaws and all over her putrid face. Laughing horribly as tequila poured out of her throat she chewed on the piece of meat in her mouth. Her horrified mother went to reprimand Devanira's awful behaviour but before she had the chance to wag an angry finger she was smashed in the face with a jagged end of a broken tequila bottle. Her eyes gouged out she fell back into her husbands arms.

Meanwhile Devanira's husband was flipping the hell out. One of the kids had passed out while the other was vomiting everywhere. He tried to pick up the unconscious kid while dragging the other away by the arm but by this point Devanira had released herself from her grave. She pounced on the three of them and tore at her husbands back, he tried to put the kids in between himself and his awful zombie wife in the vain hope that her love for them would stop this awful behaviour. However Devanira couldn't give a flying f**k about the kids and instead of showing them maternal love and warmth ripped them into meat confetti. Her husband stood for a second in slack jawed horror, before he could really grasp what the hell had just happened two other zombies jumped on his back. Becoming a kind of human meals on wheels was the last thing he had really expected that day, it would be nice to say the last thing that went through his head was a happy memory of his wife and children. However the last thing that really went through his head was Devanira's claw like fist, closely followed by her zombie tongue licking out his brains.

It was around this point in the chaotic festivities that Devanira's father remembered what a complete total and utter b***h  she was. The family had conveniently forgotten all the times she had been cruel to the children, all the times she had cheated on her loyal husband and all the times she had upset her mother. They'd even forgotten her crazy drunken rampages and violent behaviour. Instead after her death they had slowly convinced themselves that she was a perfect daughter, a model wife and a loving and caring mother. In death she had reached a kind of perfection in their minds she could never have attained while alive. Now that she had come back as a hate fueled zombie her father could see her as what she really had been, every bit as ugly on the inside as what she was on the outside, basically an absolute awful c**t.

His wife lying blind in the dirt by his side, Devanira's father lost it. Seeing his grandchildren eviscerated, his wife blinded and his son in law turned into a brain buffet was too much. He grabbed one of the remaining bottles of tequila and smashed it on the corner of his daughter's grave. Running at her full pelt he sunk the glass into her skull, stabbing the bottle down in a violent rage again and again until she lay motionless on the bloodied ground. Looking down at her he spat on her corpse and cursed the day she had entered his life.

Surrounded by hundreds of undead he knew he and his wife wouldn't be able to escape the cemetery, but he took some comfort knowing that his awful daughter was probably burning in hell and no longer wreaking havoc here on earth.