Night of the Living Yippie

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Gary finally gets his hands on a magical notebook with the power to raise the dead. The results are rather... underwhelming.

Submitted: June 15, 2017

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Submitted: June 15, 2017

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Night of the Living Yippie

Emily Sloan

What was taking him so long?

I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for my mindless minion to return from his mission.

Robbie, finally, emerged from the depths of the forest into the clearing, a worn black Hilroy notebook in his hands, and staggered towards me. Ugh, he was even uglier up close. To put it simply, if Robbie didn’t look like the stereotypical goth teenager, then I don’t know what did. He had the whole black-hoodie-two-sizes-too-big-with-dark-skinny-jeans-and-black-converse thing going on. The dude even painted his nails black. He handed the notebook to me without a word. I tucked it into my tattered blue vest.

With this, I will become the overlord of the world!

The bushes to my right rustled and a moment later, two girls emerged. Mary, the brunette in the tacky orange sweater, and Jessica, the redheaded redneck reject in the green flannel, walked up to me without a clue in their empty heads what was about to transpire. They approached me casually, for they believed that I was their friend after all. I wondered how they’d react when I shattered that false sense of security?

I decided to make them my guinea pigs. I needed to test if this thing actually worked, and there’s no time like the present! How does it work exactly? Do I just think it, or do I do a little chant? I mumbled a curse under my breath.

Suddenly, Mary exploded into a pile of blood and guts, spraying everyone with liquefied brain matter. Oh, so that’s how it works! I laughed maniacally, “Muwah-ha-ha-ha! I tricked you all, you little bastards! Now I will be the ruler of this dank, dismal, hell-hole!”

“Noooo!” Jessica cried, clutching at Mary’s chunky remains as she desperately tried to piece her bestie back together. Because that will bring her back. Right.

Out of nowhere, a griffin swooped down and snatched up Jessica in its talons.

“He-he-he-he!” it cried in triumph, an arrogant grin plastered on its muzzle.

“Tod! Help me!” Jessica screamed, just as the monster tore her apart, limb from limb. Her blood fell down like rain, painting the forest with red splatters. Ew. Why didn’t I bring an umbrella? I groaned, looking down at the fresh red stains on my clothes. And that was a new shirt, too.

I looked around at both Mary’s and Jessica’s dismembered corpses, and sighed. “Robbie, get the shovel.”  

“… Oh, and then I got, like, twelve pairs of stilettos, and this hat, and this super cute- OMG! What happened here?!” Melissa screamed as she entered the clearing, a look of what I assumed to be surprise underneath that opaque layer of foundation.

Great, another witness.

Dressed in enough rosy pastels to make even Barbie jealous, and showing more skin than a strip club on a Saturday night, Melissa had her favorite Chihuahua – she has ten – in her trademark purple leather purse.  

She sniffed the air a bit, her nose wrinkling in disgust, “Ew, what died?” she asked in that high-pitched, nasally voice of hers.

Robbie snickered, shoveling the last chunk of Jessica underneath a blanket of moss, “Yeah, Tod, what died?” he asked sarcastically.

The griffin, as it clearly wanted seconds, chose that moment to dive down and snatch up Melissa’s bag, with the little-rat dog still in it. Yippie, well, yipped as the creature shredded through the leather to his fat fluffy body. However, after discovering that the mongrel was mostly fur, bone, and Melissa’s bronzer, it dropped the corpse and flew off.

“Noooo!” Melissa screamed in horror, “That was a designer handbag! Oh, and Yippie Number Seven!”

Well, it wasn’t a lab rat, but it was pretty close. “Ha-ha ha-ha!” I cried in triumph, withdrawing the notebook from my vest, “Now I will raise my army of the undead! Prepare to die, you brain-dead bimbo!” I opened the book and began to chant the spell over Melissa’s mournful wails.

When I finished the chant, I looked around. Aside from Melissa’s occasional sobs, the forest was quiet. Deathly quiet. I looked down at the notebook, wondering if I missed a line or something. I silently re-read the text and, unsurprisingly, I had chanted the spell flawlessly.

So what was taking so long?

A long, eerie howl rang out, and then everything was silent. A moment later, a bloody Chihuahua leaped from the nearby brush.

“Yippie Number Seven!” Melissa sobbed, “You came back to Mommy!”

Although he had just died not three minutes ago, Zombie Yippie was already green and decaying, with patches of black mold on his wet, stringy pelt. Even from a good ten meters of distance, I could still smell the distinct stench of rotting flesh. I made a mental note to add Febreeze to the list of things to remember to bring the next time I try this spell.

All in all, I was pretty disappointed. An immortal zombie Chihuahua is rather underwhelming, and this little rat-dog was certainly no exception. Of all the undead animals I could’ve had under my command, I just had to have gotten a Chihuahua. Well, better try again.

But then Yippie attacked.

He sank his jagged, partially rotten teeth into his previous master’s neck. Fangs tore through squishy flesh right to the arteries. The look of shock was frozen on Melissa’s face as she tried to figure out why her neck was a gushing fountain of blood. Her face paled and she toppled to the forest floor, dead.

Good riddance.

“What the hell, Tod!” Robbie yelled in frustration, “I just cleaned up your last mess, now I gotta find a place to dump that one too! You asshole!”

A loud, heavy groan sounded before a tree suddenly toppled over and crushed Melissa’s tepid carcass into the ground. Robbie smirked in satisfaction, “And that is what I like to call a job half-assed,” he said smugly, pretending to dust off his hands from work he didn’t do. Just then, an axe embedded itself in the fallen tree, a few inches away from Robbie’s face.

Dan emerged from the shadows, in all his disgusting-hairy-forearms-and-red-flannel glory, holding a growling Yippie, who must’ve run off at some point, under his heavily muscled arm. “I found your dog!” the lumberjack called, holding the tiny zombie up by the scruff of his neck. Yippie snarled in response.

I’ve always wanted to try this. I snapped my fingers, and Yippie swung around and ripped a chunk out of Dan’s wrist.

“Oh my god! Your dog just bit me!” he screamed, flailing his hand as he desperately tried to shake the dog off.

Robbie, who snuck up behind him while brandishing the axe, sunk the blade into Dan’s spinal cord with a loud crack. Yippie jumped from Dan’s slowly bleeding hand and trotted to Robbie’s side as Dan’s lifeless body fell to the ground like a gross, hairy, overly muscular tree.

I stood over his freshly murdered corpse and grinned.

“Night, night, Danny boy,”


© Copyright 2017 Emily Sloan. All rights reserved.

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