My girlfriend is a zombie, and it kinda sucks. Okay, it really sucks. Her skin slides around sometimes. Especially whenever we fuck. If I grabber tits too hard, they just slough right off. I always forget tuh be careful when I’m in the moment, the zone. I wouldn’t teller this, but it’s a major mood dampener. I mean, it’s like an instant boner killer. We hafta stop n get the needle n thread n stitch em back on like I’m Frankenstein or somethin, which is really difficult when she only has B-cups, on account of it’s hard tuh get a good grip for sewing.

Speakin of Frankenstein, my brother’s all sewn up, too. His skin n patchwork is grody as all hell cuz he was an accident. Mom n Dad were trashed as fuck when they cooked im up, and by cooked, I mean they banged right there on the slab. Her pregnancy was basically one big horny OSHA violation. They decided tuh try again with me cuz they wanted a sexier kid, I guess, but they just ended up with an even more fucked up disaster child. Mom’s a siren n Dad’s a fairy (not that kind of fairy, but I have my suspicions sometimes cuz he comes home every Saturday night smellin like wet dog), so we were sposed tuh be hot shit. Yeah, we ended up shit, alright.

Speakin of my Dad havin butt sex, my best friend is a werewolf. Most werewolves are fags, which is what reminded me of my friend, but he isn’t gay, at least I don’t think. Love him tuh death– not in a gay way– but it gets annoyin as shit sometimes. That guy can drive me up the goddamn wall. We get cheap beer at the Wawa all the time n sit in the back of his pickup truck drinkin as the sun sets. What a fuckin riot. And not to sound like a homo, but the sun’ll be so beautiful, the sky the same colors as an infected scab surrounded by a bruise, but way prettier when it’s smeared with the occasional streaky clouds. But then a lot of times he ends up ruinin it cuz we’ll be lookin at this perfect bloody sky, y’know, speaking of–

My ex-girlfriend is a vampire. I know. You’re probably thinkin I really dropped the ball there. And I did a little bit, but also those girl vampires are batshit crazy bitches. Almost all of em have some form of venereal or blood-borne disease cuz they never stop fuckin and suckin, which I guess is sorta in the job description, n my ex was no exception. So she had some nasty ass infection wither fangs, but god did she look so hot showin off those chompers of ers, somehow catchin a bit of moonlight as she went tuh stick em deep in your neck, like it’s fuckin Twilight or The Vampire Diaries. My girlfriend gets so jealous cause everyone knows that vampires are way sexier than zombies. I made the mistake of agreein wither on that once, n she cried so hard her bile tears dug mushy flesh trenches all downer face. I think she mighta been cryin so hard thatter eyeball fell out. I think that was the same time. But we stuck it in a glass of cold milk for a while and were able tuh smush it back in, like you do with a tooth. Anyway, I was sayin that they looked goddamn fantastic as she sunk into your neck. But then the bite would grow pustules n boils n scab n pus, n it was all peach n red n purple n yellow n bruised–

Which is just like the sky every sunset on the night of the full moon, in the parking lot, with my best friend who’s a werewolf that I was tellin you about just a second ago. So like I was sayin, the sun was settin, a bigass genital wart that looked real cool in the right setting, but then he started flippin the fuck out. And there it was– the moon, as pale as my landlord, even paler than my ex cuz he’s a skeleton, all prim and proper, fit for a high school biology lab, n he just lost his shit. So I had tuh take all the beer we were gonna share, go home, n get plastered alone. It was so weird seein him like that. It made me feel gross n unnatural n sick tuh my stomach even though it’s so normal, way more normal than me (but can you really compare a presence tuh an absence?). I dunno why. The sick tuh my stomach part was prolly cuz I got so fuckin hammered I puked all over this group of gnomes in some lady’s garden. Man, were they pissed the fuck off.

I like getting wasted, absolutely smashed, but I like drugs more. If you name any drug you can think of, I’ve done it. I started with the pussy shit– mary jane, bennies, Tussin, boomers, y’know, n that shit got boring quick, but they can be good mixers, the drug equivalent tuh tonic. Then I moved on tuh benzos, all the big contenders– z-bars, K (not tuh be confused with special K, which I’ve also done many a time), tar, blues, you name it, it’s been in my bloodstream. And of course there’s good ol’ E, smack, crystal, oxy, acid, flakka, all the way tuh the obscure buttons n devil’s snare. But my favorite by far is coke.

The thing I like about blow is that it has the highest chance of turnin me. I hope the blood from my nose’ll dribble down into my mouth and that’ll awaken a thirst for the stuff. Or that when I look in the mirror n see my pupils the size of the fuckin moon, I’ll start howlin. Or it’ll end up rotting my schnoz so bad I’ll look freaky enough tuh pass as a member of the livin dead. It hasn’t happened yet, but fingers crossed. And besides, I like how snow makes me feel almost as much as I like the idea of finally bein insane, finally bein normal. Like, when I snort a nice line of candy or smoke a fat rock, I’m an animal, I’m a menace, I’m alive cuz I feel like I could be dead.

The other day I just couldn’t stop. I just kept sniffin that snort, line after line of cola, I didn’t come up for air, I didn’t even stop tuh feel it course through me n actually enjoy the high, I just kept goin n goin n goin n goin n goin n soon enough I collapsed n had a bit of a Mia Wallace moment– y’know, Pulp Fiction– n I was gone. I really dunno how I survived it, I really don’t.

But when I finally came up n looked at my bloody face in the dust covered mirror, the whole ordeal gave me a brilliant idea, a fantastic idea, a genius idea. I guess all those highballs haven’t killed all my brain cells after all.

I’m gonna do it as soon as I can replenish my stash. All that carrie gets expensive, of course. And it’s gonna take a shit ton, what with my tolerance and all. But I don’t really feel too worried about throwin all that money down the drain for this, cuz it’s gonna be the last thing I do, anyway. Only thing I need tuh do is, all there is tuh it, I just gotta OD so hard I keel over n fuckin die. Not in a suicidal way, though, nah, but if I die, I might be able tuh come back as a ghost. Is that not the most smartest thing you’ve ever heard in the whole goddamn world in your whole goddamn life?

It won’t be long now. I won’t be an outcast anymore, I can be normal, I can live my life way better than I ever could livin. I can be a freak like everyone else n it’ll be fuckin paradise, fuckin paradise, man. I could bawl like a goddamn baby just thinkin about it, but like, outta happiness.

Happiness, man. I can hardly fuckin wait.

Bastet Zyla is a college sophomore from West Virginia currently attending Oberlin College for creative writing. Other than several short stories, she has also written two novels, three plays, and countless poems. Her work was recently published for the first time in the Hawai’i Pacific Review, followed by publication in Apricity Magazine. She has also received many awards throughout her academic career, such as the first place playwriting award two years in a row at the West Virginia State Thespian Festival, as well as being ranked multiple times in Wood Whispers, a yearly West Virginia writing collection.