The General

10 Jul

The General woke up cranky, but then the Generall always wakes up cranky.

He turned to his night stand and looked at the severed hand. The now grey-green hand had once belonged to his best friend and godfather of his children, George “Big Tank” Ramos.

When he killed Big Tank, he kept the hand.

I guess that’s the advantage of killing zombies, you can collect souvenirs.

The General rubbed his eyes and sat up. The General yawned and stretched and screamed. And screamed, and screamed once more. A blood curdling, death scream. A death scream that meant he would gladly kill and he would gladly be killed.

But the house was empty, so it didn’t matter how much noise he made.

The General stood up, grabbed the hand, and tossed it into a big 10 gallon trash can he had brought up from the garage. The General started to head down the hall, when he suddenly stopped. He turned around and looked down into the trash can. The General told himself not to look, but everyday he told himself not to look, and everyday he did.

The hand had fallen on top of his wife’s hand, which was near all three of his kid’s hands, the neighbor’s hands who had lived on either side of his house, and the neighbor’s down the street, and the next neighborhood over, and the next neighborhood over…

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