The Dead Zombie Wife story has been going on for at least a year now. It is a made up story. I like to call the legend, factual fiction. I am going to answer some questions I’ve been asked and some questions I am going to pretend I was asked. The part of this post is to shed some light on the story and why I write what I write. Enjoy.
Note from Author: I want to make something clear about this story I am about to tell. It touches heavily on the Mormon religion and God. These stories about the Dead Zombie Wife all the way to the Mormon Cult is fiction. I stretch the truth and elaborate on much of what is mentioned. Don’t take this stuff to heart. There are no evil Mormons trying to steal my soul. There is no zombie in my wall and the man below me isn’t a ghost with creepy ghosts children. It’s all for fun. Let me explain it all quickly. I heard a scratch on the wall one night and that scratch created Claudia or as I call her, The Dead Zombie Wife. I can tell you that some of the things below and the previous stories did actually happen. I just added a little flair to it to make it a little more interesting. Again. The Elders that visit me are not sent by Satan to claim my soul. The part about me praying, that is true. I swear.
I have lived in the complex for over a year now. I came here hoping for some sense of security. I was hoping that everything would be okay. Soon after I moved in, I was met with some serious issues. The apartment I live in has some dark history. I wasn’t told about it from the landlords. I did my own research and sleuthing to discover these secrets. I have told the story many times about the Dead Zombie Wife living in my walls. She has been dormant for a while now. That is a plus for me. I don’t know if I would be able to take her evil ways much longer. With Claudia, then came the Ghost of Carlos. Another spirit that resides in what I thought would be a safe and happy environment. Do you see what I am getting at? How can a person possibly live in a place full of ghosts and zombies? Turns out, these two lost souls are not the only things that go bump in the night. Now, I have to deal with a witch.
What an eventful night. It was just before midnight, when I awoke from my slumber. There I was, asleep in my cap. I am a heavy sleeper. I will sleep through everything. Scratch that. I will wake up to two things. My alarm clock on my phone and a phone call. Sometimes I do sleep through a phone call but for this story, I will say I only wake up to them. Honestly, I am a heavy sleeper. I rarely wake up to noises. Even the crying of a newborn won’t wake me up. If hell was raining down and a meteor was about to wipe out mankind, I will not be awake for such a cataclysmic event. To the story at hand. There I was, asleep on the couch. I had just finished some terrible movies and felt the only way to wash that filth off was to sleep and hopefully erase any memory of it from my noggin’. A ruckus startled me and I jumped from the couch to see what was the matter. The noises I was hearing was vivid in my dream. The only thing I recall from my dream was hearing the commotion outside. I went to the door and peeked outside to see what it was. This sudden fear overcame me. I dove back on my couch with a metal bar clutched in my hand. I gripped it tightly where it dug into my palm, spilling blood. With a blood stained hand, I ran to another room. My old roommate was in his bedroom. I called to him, screaming about the madness outside but being a dream, the only thing I could do was shout out nothing but dead air. It was as if I had the wind knocked out of me and I couldn’t speak.
I finally woke up to the sounds of sirens and people screaming. It was Armageddon outside. A gaggle of people were outside, each of them hooting and a hollering. Even with the wails of police sirens and the kaleidoscope of red and blue growing in size, the ruffians continued to partake in their illegal activities. I wouldn’t be so pissed off if I were awake at the time but these buffoons disturbed my sleep. This enraged me. Maybe I would be nicer if Freddy Krueger was creeping up on me with his glove in hand and they saved me but that isn’t the case. Krueger isn’t real. These kids are. They unleashed the Hulk in me.
With no respect for others, they broke out the stereo equipment and had their own Rockfest in their front yard. I’m all for all night partying. I do it but when I do, it’s in the comfort of my own home. It’s just me, a bottle of beer (or captain if I’m man enough) and my Internet to keep me company. I go outside and I see three…no four. Wait! Five! Yes, six squad cars surrounding one of the buildings like they were seal six staking out Bin Laden. This isn’t the first time and will not be the last time the cops are called to my complex. Some of the kids run away from the apartment before the police can arrive to control the situation. Others hopped in their cars and sped off. I don’t think they had gotten very far. The police were all over the place. I am sure they were stopped and booked for being complete douches.
Aside from the hooting and hollering, a girl is screaming. It could have been either a scream for help or a I’m a crazy white bitch scream. Putting my knowledge of Agatha Christie novels to use, I was like Hercule Poirot. I deducted that this hellish scream was in fact a, “let’s wake up the effin neighborhood” scream. At least one party guest was kind enough to care about the other tenants in the area and he politely asked her to, ‘shut the hell up, bitch’. Thank you, kind sir. I tip my non existent hat to you. You saved us all from permanent ear damage and also brought an end to the miracle ear stock.
I sit outside, dazed and confused. (alright alright, alright) The Boston Pops are as baffled as I am. We watch the ordeal unfold before us. We are all captivated by the police presence and their quick arrival. If I was to be truthful, their quick arrival was the most captivating. Too bad my local police force wasn’t on call in New Orleans six years ago. The cops were flashing their flashlights on them. They lined up the thugs and calmed them down. Pretty impressive for the GPD to wrangle these users and shut them the hell up. From where we were sitting we couldn’t make out much of the situation but it was clear that these kids weren’t getting a simple slap on the wrist. We waited and placed bets on when the paddy wagons would show up. How amazing would that be? Imagine seeing three or four wagons pull up, handcuff each individual and shove them (nicely I should add) inside the wagons.
We watch. We wait. We talk about the flea infestation and compare battle scars from their bites. It is unsure as to who brought these insects inside our dwelling. I had a short visit from an old friend. He brought his cat along. Being the animal lover that I am, I said it would be better and more humane to let the cat inside instead of keeping it locked in a car overnight. The Boston Pops were cat sitting a friend’s four-legged friend. My detective skills lacked here. We don’t know who brought this hell on us but they at least bombed their home. Good for them but bad for me. I still have yet to bomb my place. Thinking about it now, maybe since they have bombed their apartment, all the fleas decided to jump ship and choose my home to squat in. I know the Boston Pops are having a good laugh over this now. I figured out their plan. If it isn’t the Ghost of Carlos or the Dead Zombie Wife, it’s fleas. These blood sucking vermin now plague me. Could this have been the diabolical plan all along? The devil moves the Boston Pops in. I gain their trust. Then after the trust is gained and the fear of having my soul taken away, they strike. They unleash the fleas to not only only drain me of my blood but scar me for life, physically and emotionally. I should have never let my guard down. I need to act fast and kill these blood suckers before they kill me first.
How did I get off track? I am sorry about that. This post isn’t about the fleas. I am talking about the other parasites that is infesting my hood. Time ticks by. The money pot is still there and we have yet to see any wagons pull up. It’s about 1am now. The craziness is dying down. Some of the squad cars have left to either head back to the station or patrol our neighborhood. Some of the bothersome and trouble making tenants were told to leave. One by one, cars drove off. The party grew smaller and smaller, leaving just one person…
And then there was one. This chain smoking fool would come outside every five or so minutes. He has some balls I tell yeah. Still parked outside was a lone policeman or woman. I never did lift up their tail to see. This lone officer parked his vehicle on the right side of the street. His high beams on, he sat alone in his car filling out the countless reports him and his men had the dull task of doing. Maybe the lighting was not soothing where he was parked but he decided to move to the other side of the street to finish up with the reports. He is met up by other patrol car. They talk shortly. He still resides there parked conspicuously, hiding in the darkness ready to pounce of the unsuspecting people who think the coast is clear. When all seems fine, he turns off his beams and drives off in the distance. Another day on the job. Another neighborhood safe from the evil of those who disturb the peace.
But what is that? What comes out of the darkness? We spot a black Acura. It may have been white or green, or any other color. Since it was night time and things are dimly lit, everything looks black. So this mysterious Acura drives slowly by my and the Boston Pops apartment. It is like those movies you see when gang banging thugs drive slowly by someone before they pull out their glocks and end the life of those who might speak negatively about them. We were safe. We so no guns and didn’t get a talking to from the driver or passengers in the car. They have more important things to worry about. They had to pick up the stash they tossed out their window. Not wanting to head to prison who a narcotics charge, these ingenious people dropped their drugs in an empty lawn. After the police presence dispersed, they went to the drop point to retrieve the bag of goodies. We wanted to be good citizens and flag down a passing by patrol car but they didn’t stop. They ignored us cause I am sure he was thinking, ‘what the eff do they want? I have more important things to do.” I could be thinking too much into this. Maybe he didn’t ignore us cause he didn’t want to spend more time filling out statement. Maybe he just didn’t see us. We were tucked away behind some trees. He just didn’t see us. Plain and simple.
Still, it would have been awesome to see some drug dealers get busted. I mean we never did see any paddy wagons. That put a damper on the night. At least give us something to get excited about. Give us some action. Give us the gratitude of making our neighborhood safer and actually feel like we contributed to society. The only contribution we do for society is paying taxes. That’s not rewarding. Thanks a lot, officer. You ripped what little joy I had left in me that night. The Acura drove off. He made a few circles around the hood, presumably to lose the cops trail. He was gone. But remember the last party goer? That chain smoking fool thought it was safe to finally leave the scene of the crime and meet up with the others. Maybe he was looking for the Acura. That might have been his stash. Whatever reason it was, he was driving and ready to elude the police. He pulled out of the parking lot and made his way past us. A police car appears out of nowhere and follows him. The chain smoker makes a right and the cop follows. Who knows how many lefts and rights he made but in the distance, we could see the ominous glow of red and blue lights filling the darken sky. It was at that point we knew it was all over for smoking Joe Camel. All those constant hours of playing Grand Theft Auto didn’t pay off. He had been caught and was ready to pay the piper. Hopefully he isn’t a narc. Don’t want him turning in the Acura. No telling how tough those suburban gang bangers truly are.
The night was over. It was almost two in the morning. The cold, September night was getting to us. We both retreated back inside. I nestled myself back on the couch. I closed my eyes and hoped for a good night sleep. Sleeping is hard once you get awoken midway though your sleep cycle. I have every right to complain. They ruined my night and ruined my normal sleep schedule. I just hope that with my sleep pattern now out of whack, I can get it back to normal before I start my new job. If I am late, I will use this as an excuse. I just hope they buy it. Would suck to lose my job over something like this…unless this is the work of the witch. But that my friends, is a whole other story for another time.
After months of silence, I have an eerie feeling that the Ghost of Carlos is back. I really thought I was done with him. I made a pact with the devil. The new neighbors came to my rescue. All those things should have saved me from the ongoing torment I get from Carlos. But he is back. He’s returned once more to make my life hell. I don’t really know if ghost take vacations. If they do, then eff them. They at least do something I don’t. The other day while I was watching television, my phone went crazy. I was getting notifications from an application I use. The app is called, iCam. It is a security camera that will alert me when there is motion. While this could be a very good thing, it can also be something very scary. There have been stories about people catching criminals lurking about their house with this application and many like it.