The transcript for the book that you are now holding in your hands and reading with your eyes, entitled Zombiebaron's Adventure To The Zoo, was written by me, the author, Harold M. Zombiebaron Esq., approximately four days after I visited the zoo. Later that week I accidentally left the transcript in a Starbucks and promptly forgot about it. Three months later I got a phone call from a big publishing house and they were offering me money in exchange for the rights to publish my story. Obviously I said yes because you now own a published copy of the story which you are reading at this very moment.
What follows is the true account of my visit to the zoo.
edit Part I: I Love The Smell Of Brains In The Morning
Hello. My name is Harold M. Zombiebaron Esq. But all my friends call me Zombiebaron. I work in an office building. Mostly I just answer a phone. It is very boring. But it pays the bills and I can afford to live in a very nice apartment near the intersection of Yonge and Dundas in Toronto. That's in Canada, by the way.
Yes. I am really a zombie. I died over 400 years ago when I was mauled to death by about twenty zombie nuns somewhere in the vast wilderness of Northern Ontario. I don't find that being a zombie has stopped me from leading a normal life. Except that now I will live forever and crave the sweet taste of brains. Also not all the ladies love the smell of rotting flesh. But they usually stop talking after I eat their brains so that's good.
There was no snow the morning that I went to the zoo. This was surprising because as everybody knows the entire country of Canada is blanketed by a thick layer of snow during 95% of the year. However, being the forward thinking zombie that I am, I had planned my adventure on a rare snowless day. I woke up early that day even though it was a Saturday. After eating my breakfast of fried brains I packed myself several brain butter and jam sandwiches for later. Then I got dressed, had a shower, and took a very long satisfying pee. Now I was ready to go to the zoo!
I don't own a car so I set off on foot. Nine hours later I arrived at the Toronto Zoo.
I could feel that I was about to embark on an adventure that would change my life forever.
edit Part II: At The Zoo
The first place I went at the zoo was the reptile house because snakes are my most favorite animal. To me they look like huge dicks with eyes. Sometimes at night I dream that my dick is a snake. That is one of my most favorite dreams. At the reptile house they had a whole bunch of snakes. They also had some turtles and a komodo dragon. I don't know who the fuck decided that komodo dragons were dragons but I think that by definition a dragon should breath fire. Komodo dragons, as I learned at the zoo that day, do not breathe fire.
Next I went to go see the panda bears. It is a little known fact that pandas are ridiculously smart. Even though they cannot speak English they are constantly attempting to communicate with their surroundings through a complex system of body language and hand signals. Luckily I can both understand the panda's system of communication and communicate back to them thanks to a rather long adventure I had in Asia a couple decades ago. So me and the panda were able to discuss our theories on whether or not the tragedy of September 11th, 2001 was an inside job for the better part of an hour. I shared one of my sandwiches with the panda, and then he posed for a picture with me. After that I ate his brain. It was very tasty because he was smart.
Apparently the whole reason for having a zoo in the first place is to protect animals. Or at least that's what the security guards told me after they caught me. They were really angry at me for eating the panda's brain. I tried to tell them not to worry because I don't think pandas can even become zombies and even if they could I already ate its entire brain so it wasn't as if it could have turned anyway. But the security guards didn't seem to understand my logic. They just kept yelling at me about killing the panda. Eventually I got tired of their yelling and went home.
edit Part III: Aftermath, or There And Back Again
According to the message I found on my answering machine when I got home nine and a half hours later — the walk home was uphill — I have been banned from the zoo until such time as I either replace the panda whose brain I ate or I pay them a sum of money equal to or greater than their estimate of the panda's monetary value. So my plan is to write a book and then get it published and then give a bunch of the money that I make to the people at the zoo so they won't be angry at me anymore.
And that is the story of my adventure to the zoo. I can't wait to go back.
|The Adventures of Zombiebaron|
Zombiebaron's Adventure To The Zoo • Zombiebaron's Adventure To Asia