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f living-dead and zombie related fiction on the internet ZoneID 39498 Size 728x90Homepage of the Dead has the largest collection of living-dead related fiction on the internet. Each day a contribution is featured in the form of a ’little bite’. If you want to read more simply visit the Fiction Section . A Man’s Gotta Eat What A Man’s Gotta Eat by Dana Fredsti (Genre: Living Dead) The name’s T-Bone. Chuck T-Bone. I’m a private detective. You know, a P.I.; a dick; a gumshoe. To be specific, I find missing people. It’s always been my specialty, even before the big change. After I died I changed my name to fit my new life – though ’life’ might not be the right word under the circumstances. Back in the old days, I was Charles Tyrone of Tyrone’s Investigative Services. But I bought it while doing a job for a prominent family – an Italian family with connections in all the wrong places. They paid me well and I’ve never had enough money to be choosy about who I work for. I’ve always tried to stay on the clean side of the law but it ain’t easy, even these days. Yeah, I’m a zombie. Undead, living dead, ghoul, take your pick. I say we’re just ordinary guys and dolls trying to earn an honest day’s wages and put food on the table, same as we did before this zombie crap really started to hit the fan. You know, back a year or so when the dead started refusing to stay buried. Having corpses walking around in various states of decay was bad enough, but then it became obvious that the dead’s favorite pastime was chowing down on the living. You’d step outside of your house and bam! Instant corpse kibble. show/hide more... It was Wednesday morning, the middle of a hot July week. Smog lay over the San Fernando Valley in a thick haze and it was hotter than the Sahara outside. I was kicking back in my office, air conditioner cranked to the max as I waited for a new case to keep me in grub and pay the bills. Used to be that Jack Daniels took up most of my pay but now I only drink it out of habit. These days it was more important to pay the bills, especially the electricity so you could keep your home and your workspace nice and frosty. Dead meat rots if you don’t keep it cold. I was still in pretty good shape after six months. Little green around the gills, maybe, but nothing major. One of these days I was gonna go down to one of the local mortuary joints and get myself embalmed. But that took more do-re-mi than I had to spare, so in the meantime I’d make due with my J.D. I figured my insides must be fairly pickled as is. It had started out to be a slow week and so far there was no sign of things getting on the speed track. My bank account was flatter than a ten year old in a training bra and if something didn’t break soon, I was gonna join the lines at the unemployment office. I was just starting to sink into a depression darker than an African night when the door opened and she walked in. She didn’t knock, but then trouble rarely waits to be invited. Tall and still lusciously curved, she swayed towards me. This could’ve been on account of the fact that her dainty feet were encased in black stiletto heels, the kind that said ’fuck me but don’t ask me to walk.’ Nice gams, kind of slender, so slender that in a couple of places I could see bone showing through the seemed stockings. Her hair, where it still clung to her scalp, was blonde and luxuriant. Heavy makeup gave her once porcelain, now bluish complexion an almost natural skin tone, marred only by a gash across one cheek that no expensive mortician’s putty could hide. Her nails were painted red to match her lipstick and her low-necked, curve-clinging satin dress. A black silk scarf draped around her throat and shoulders didn’t quite conceal the gaping would where someone had given her the King Kong of hickeys right above the collar bone. Her peepers were still an icy blue, but brother, all the Visine in the world couldn’t get the red out. All in all, I wouldn’t kick her out of my bed. "Chuck T-Bone?" Her voice was cold, matching the look in her eyes. "That’s my moniker," I said, staying where I was, my feet perched on top of my desk. If this dame was going to play it cool, so would I. I nodded towards the cracked leather chair on the other side of the desk. "Have a seat." She did so. As she sat down across from me, I got a whiff of expensive perfume. Everything about this dame screamed money. And trouble. There was silence as we eyeballed each other. I took a gulp of J.D. and stared at her until she looked away. Satisfied, I said, "So, what can I do for you, Miss " I paused, waiting for her to fill in the blank. "Gionetti. Mrs. Robert Gionetti." She watched me closely as she gave her name, expecting some kind of reaction. I reacted all right, but only on the inside. A good P.I. never gives anything away. She seemed disappointed. "Don’t you recognize the name?" "I don’t know," I replied coolly. "Should I?" Her tone became caustic. "Perhaps you’ve been dead a little longer than we’d thought." I shrugged. "Maybe there’s some people a man would rather forget." "Like this one?" Mrs. Gionetti opened her small black handbag, pulled out a slightly yellowed photo and held it out to me. I took it, lifting my feet off the desk and swiveling my chair around so that my back was to her. It was a good thing I did, because seeing the photo hit me like a gut punch and I had a hunch Mrs. Gionetti would’ve enjoyed it. "Well?" Mrs. G. sounded faintly triumphant. "Does that ring any bells?" I made sure my voice was carefully neutral. "Yeah, as a matter of fact. Quite a few." "I thought it might." Her smug tone was really beginning to piss me off. I turned back to towards her and flipped the picture face down on the desk. "This is old business," I said. "Why bring it up now?" Mrs. G. smiled, causing the gash in her cheek to crack open a little more. "On the contrary, Mr. T-Bone. This is unfinished business. I believe you were killed before completing the job that my family originally hired you to do. Very sloppy work." That hurt. "Yeah?" I snarled. "Well, it doesn’t look like your family lasted much longer than I did, sister. And at least I had a clean death. You didn’t’ see me ending up as boxed lunch for a zombie." I could tell I’d struck home when she raised one hand to her wounded cheek. Her face would’ve been flushed with anger if her arterial ketchup still circulated. "How dare you! I was with my husband when he died and " "And the first thing he said when he got back up was ’Gee, honey, you look good enough to eat!’" I grabbed her wrist as she sprang to her feet and tried to slap me from across the desk. "I wouldn’t do that," I cautioned as she tugged angrily against my grip. "You might lose your hand." ...read the rest of this contribution in the Ficton Section David ’Flyboy’ Emge dies aged 77 Monday 22-Jan-2024 Sad news... David passed away on Saturday the 20th. His iconic ’living’ and zombie performance in Dawn of the Dead earned him countless fans. More discussion here on the forums - https://forum.homepageofthedead.com/...ad.php?t=24834 Click to view the story and comments (0) Gary Klar dies aged 73 Saturday 2-Jan-2021 Sad news... Gary passed away on December 31st. His great performance as Pvt. Steel in Day of the Dead earned him countless fans. More discussion here on the forums - https://forum.homepageofthedead.com/...ad.php?t=24392 Click to view the story and comments (0) Joseph Pilato dies aged 70 Monday 25-Mar-2019 Sad news... Joe passed away quietly in his sleep. His epic performance as Captain Rhodes in Day of the Dead earned him countless fans. More discussion here on the forums - https://forum.homepageofthedead.com/...ad.php?t=24196 Click to view the story and comments (0) New Fiction Contribution Sunday 29-Oct-2017 * When Frank Met Mike - Long General Horror story : Haddonfield, Illinois’ ultimate Bogeyman, Michael Myers, pitted against the one man capable of matching his own savage brutality... The Punisher. Click...