Zombies in a Boston blizzard, humor in horror
From Mistress of the Undead Belmont pushed himself off the floor, shuffled to the bathroom, not bothering to flush the toilet after he pissed. Still naked, he made his way to the kitchen, set the kettle on, grabbed his French press. He reached into the cabinet over the sink for the bag of coffee beans but all he found was an empty space. Rolling onto the balls of his feet, he reached further back, felt around the vacant space, smacking the bottom of the cabinet. “Don’t bother looking. I drank it all.” Hayden froze. Waited for his brain to process the voice. Still reaching in to the empty cabinet he called over his shoulder. “Belmont?” “Who else?” The old man grumbled. “I tried to stay awake but gave up around five. They must’ve brought you in after I fell asleep.” He slammed the cabinet closed then crossed to the front room. The old man sat on the couch. His clothes scattered across the floor. Thankfully, this time, his ancient dick was covered by his striped boxers. “They brought...