This is what it sounds like when the zombies cry

January 22, 2010 at 3:43 pm (I Write a Teen Romance) ()

Continuing the supra-teen-angsty adventures of Whatserella and that demon guy! Featuring: Random Zombie Guy!

Ever since she saw the flicker of jealousy in Johan’s black eyes (they were black like a piece of coal that had been mined from the blackest pit in the blackest part of hell, and also, there were no lights there, so everything looked black), Whatserella’s heart had been racing. Like the hare racing the tortoise. Like the lion racing the mouse. Like some other fable and running or something.

Like the blackest night before the blackest dawn! So very black.

He still cares, she thought. He still loves me.

Just the thought alone made her heart pound, pound, pound, like the heart of that guy in the story about the one guy who murders the other guy and then sticks him under the floorboards and then says “It’s the beating of his hideous heart!” Except his heart probably wasn’t actually pounding, what with the whole being murdered and all, but Whatserella wasn’t too good with symbolism and stuff.

Yeah, I know the name of the story.

So: He still loves me, she thought and boom went her heart.

With these thoughts in her head (you know, just the two of them: He still cares and he still loves me), she sat down to have lunch in the cafeteria with her rebound boyfriend.

She was going to have to break up with him. It helped a bit that she had been calling him her “rebound boyfriend” to his face for a couple of months now.

“Random zombie guy,” she said to him, because the author can’t be arsed to give anyone in this teen romance a proper name. “You’ve been there for me and I want you to know I appreciate it. So much. You don’t even know. But I want you to know.”

“Argh,” said Random zombie guy. It was all he ever said and frankly, Whatserella wanted to have a decent conversation with someone.

“Frankly,” she said. “I want to have a decent conversation with someone.”

“Argh,” Random zombie guy agreed sadly.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done,” Whatserella went on. “The way you avoided eating my brains. That other stuff you did. Mostly the brain-not-eating, though.”

As she spoke, the cafeteria meatloaf in front of her seemed to look more and more like brains. Eventually, she shook off the image and her inhibitions.

Definitely looks like the insides of something, that's for sure.

“We have to break up,” said Whatserella firmly, but femininely, exactly the way a heroine of a supernatual teen romance would do.

“Argh,” said Random zombie guy. A single tear fell, gleaming, from his eye.

The poor, undead bastard.

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