Wherever there are kids playing or having fun, wherever there’s a homerun or touchdown or hole-in-one, there are the Sport Zombies.
I learned about the Sport Zombies personally. Unfortunately, I'm a sports nut. Ever since I was four, when I saw my first football game. I loved it. I learned of the Sport Zombies, when I was playing golf. My friend Eric and I went to the putting green.
"You first," I said.
He stroked and the ball landed next to the hole.
After a few minutes of playing, we were at the last hole, Hole 18. I looked across the difficult land staring at the hole so far away.
"Ready?" I asked. Eric nodded. It was a hard shot.
"Here goes nothin'." He raised the club and pulverized the ball, whack. It soared for quite a long time. He looked at me with a shocked look.
"Wow," he exclaimed.
I nodded and we went to the hole. The ball was inches from the deep pit, swaying back and forth, back and forth.
Will it go in?
It finally halted on the ground.
"Dang it," breathed Eric. Just then, I saw a flash from the hole, a black flash. . .was it a hand? It looked like one, but it was too fast. The blur of black came out of the hole and snatched the ball with extreme speed.
"Eric," I said, "You cheated."
Eric was pouting at the accusation.
"No I didn't. What! You think I magically made the ball go in?"
I sighed. Oh well.
"Eric, get your ball," I commanded. "I want to hit now."
Eric bent over and looked inside.
"That ball is down there deep. The hole is pretty deep, too. All I see is black," he complained.
He got on his knees and put his eye close to the small hole. He reached down. . . . All I saw was the same black raggedy thing (what I thought was a hand) reach up and take hold of Eric's wrist.
Eric let out a cry and he tugged. Then I heard a snap of teeth and Eric yelped. He yanked back his hand. One finger looking dislocated. He squirmed around and then the hand gripped his head. He was somehow squeezed in the hole and was gone. I ran away and never saw him again. Then I studied Sport Zombies and I knew why they only attacked when athletic events occurred.
Kids! At sports, kids run free.
Then, many days later, I was playing baseball. What was the chance of Sport Zombies? None. I was running the bases. The ball almost hit me, but I sprinted to home. Before I knew it, two hands reached up from the dirt and grabbed me. A screaming face pulled me down and I knew no more.
Now I'm a Sport Zombie. I am tired of human flesh, though. So I am writing this note to help you survive. Never play a sport. Never have fun. Wait. I. . .
I have been captured. I am writing this before my execution to the Underworld. Here comes my killer. Be safe, before my inevitable dea. . .
From the editor:
The last word in this note is 'Death'. This Zombie was dragged to his banishment before he could finish it. Thank you.