With my soon to be released apocalyptic, distopian, zombie-rific book about to be released, I thought it might be good to interview one of the characters from that book. Although the book takes place in Munich, Germany, the language of the zombie is very much akin to the launguage of love — it’s universal.
So, without further adieu, I present to you one nasty, undead German male.
JW: Thank you so much for giving me the time to ask a few questions. I hope it wasn’t much of an inconvenience.
ZOMBIE: Unnnghmmm….oh sorry, undead existence has made me lose my manners. You will please forgive me if I slip now and then?
JW: Of course, of course. I completely understand. It’s probably been quite a transition for you to get used to this new lifestyle.
ZOMBIE: I wouldn’t so much call it a lifestyle. To be honest, I don’t know what to….uhnnmmmgh.
JW: Sorry, didn’t catch that last bit.
ZOMBIE: What was the question?
JW: Why don’t we move on. How were you infected?
ZOMBIE: That’s a very good question. One minute I’m walking down the street, heading for my favorite comic book shop when, out of nowhere, this stranger bowls me over and starts ripping at my neck with it’s teeth. Well I’ll have none of that, so I toss the wanker aside, stand up, and run off. The whole of the event took less than ten minutes. Next thing I know, I’m hearing this horrible noise in my head and all I can think of is smashing in brains. in fact, yours is…
JW: We had a deal, remember?
ZOMBIE: Yeah, sorry about that. It’s just that, well, it can be a bit overwhelming at times. Like right now. I can practically smell that frontal lobe of yours. Sorry. Sorry. This isn’t easy. Actually it sucks. Think about it — I have to endure all of this and what do I get? No super power, no cash prize, and being a zombie certainly isn’t a chick magnet. Hell, I can’t even score with another zombie. I could bathe in human brain and a female zombie still wouldn’t give me the time of day.
JW: So, in the book, I Zombie I —
ZOMBIE: Catchy title, by the way. It really lends a sort of Kafka-esque feeling.
JW: Thank you.
ZOMBIE: Representin’.
JW: Anyway – in the book Bethany creates the Obliterator.
ZOMBIE: Oh shit, don’t remind me. Do you know how much that thing hurts? It’s like Celine Dion turned up to 11. In-freakin-tollerable!
JW: What do you plan on doing now that your portion of the story is over? I’m assuming the author isn’t bringing your character back in one of the sequels?
ZOMBIE: Nah. Unless he writes a prequel, I’m pretty much….uhmngnhh….oh boy, sorry about that one. I’m actually thinking of writing my own novel. Now that indie-publishing has started to overshadow traditional publishing, there’s no reason why a zombie can’t become a writer. The only problem is, other than strangling and tearing at flesh, my hands are of little use.
JW: You could record it and pay someone to transcribe.
ZOMBIE: Hummpunghgghhnnn — not a bad idea.
JW: Okay, I’m a bit short on time…
ZOMBIE: Wish I could say the same.
JW: Is there anything you would like to tell my audience?
ZOMBIE: Yeah, my story is important. Although brief, I believe my scene in I Zombie I really portrays the angst felt among the undead. I urge you to read this novel when it’s published. Our plight is real. And we’re coming for you! Brainnnnnnnzzzzz.
JW: Oh, um, well, I guess that’s all for —-
Screams.
Chewing sounds.
Slurping sounds.
ZOMBIE: Thank you, peace, good night!
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