Sometimes They Come Back

On Sunday I was zombied by three men.  Three, in one day.  I'm pretty sure that's a record, although Norris McWhirter isn't so confident.  One said he'd been away with work, one compounded the zombieing by claiming not to have said something incredibly crass last time we spoke, and the third has offered no explanation for why it took him three whole months to message me again in spite of ghosting me while I was preparing to meet him.

Is there currently a full moon?
Have I become zombie-bait?

I know I like to consider my brain more than averagely useful but I'm fairly certain it is no larger or more juicy than any others, so why is my milkshake suddenly bringing all the zombies to the yard?  

 Playing now in my WhatsApp: the Wanking Dead.

Comments

  1. Longschlong24 February 2020 at 08:25

    Bad that I had to Google what zombieing is.
    Keep going sugar, you'll find your cock of gold.

    ReplyDelete
  2. CuriousScouser24 February 2020 at 09:14

    The cock of gold at the end of the rainbow... I'll keep searching for it!
    Sarahx

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Reaching Out, Touching Me, Touching You

As the current Covid lockdown rumbles on and I grow increasingly starved of touch I find my masturbatory thoughts turning away from the cut and thrust of sex itself, and instead bringing intimate touch into detailed focus.  I am a very tactile person and I miss touch.  I crave touch.  Yes, I’d love someone to fuck away my cares for an hour or two right now (I have plenty of burdens I’d love to set down for however short a period), but what I really crave is someone lazily trailing a finger across my shoulder as we lie in the sweaty afterglow of a job well done, brushing a damp tendril of frizzy hair out of my face, laughing as my super-sensitive post orgasm skin twitches under the lightest of touches. I think of all the times I lay with C, my head on his shoulder as I played with his chest hair.  I never tired of the way the silky hair would curl around my finger, tempting me to lightly tug on it, testing my resolve to not do so. I think of the way R would wrap...
Read more

A Wee Laugh

I have worked in procurement for decades now.  I have gained my chartered status and have taken exams in various procurement-related subjects (I’d say I’d studied but that would be a gross overstatement since I walked into each exam having not opened even the study guide, much less a textbook). I love what I do, though not always for whom I do it.  I love the game, the power play of it.  I love to sit devising strategies and see them pay off.  I like to think of myself as an ethical buyer, but even so there is a game to be played to ensure everyone walks away with a workable deal and I love that part of the job. Weirdly what has spilled over into my non-work life isn’t the game, much as I love it.  Over the last few decades I have found myself becoming a more ethically conscious consumer.  I don’t mean I wear only Birkenstocks and eat only vegan granola, but I try to keep myself aware of where I spend my money and exactly what sort of companies a...
Read more

Measuring Up

How does a far from classy scouse lardarse wind up dating a ballet dancer?  It was one of those glorious unforeseeable things that ultimately didn’t work out but was huge fun while it lasted. L is still one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen in the flesh.  While I don’t have a real physical type, his was that lean, rangy, sinewy type for which I do have a soft spot.  Was he a good dancer?  Well he was no Carlos Acosta (Carlos Acosta… *sigh*).  He danced professionally, so yes he was very good indeed, but he was never a principal, so not quite that elite top tier where the general public would recognise his name. He was curiously graceless when not dancing, slightly heavy-footed and more than a little shy.  He was in my area touring schools as part of a now-defunct arts program, and a teacher friend of mine asked whether I’d be willing to babysit him for a night: take him for dinner, show him some of the sights of Liverpool.  Being of a g...
Read more