Chapter 4. Very, very tired now. Not sure how this will turn out—
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Birds of a Feather…
Murdering the undead is unpleasant to say the least. It's entirely impossible, one of those things you do only in the most fiery of dreams. Likely this was no dream. Right, it was my nightmare.
How surprising no one cared of the fury unravelled there in that parking lot. I pecked, I clawed, I tore. Nothing killed him. And why? HE WAS DEAD!
But anger made me fight.
Raven! I command you! Release me, and I'll help the girl!
"Why should I trust you!"
Do you trust Murdoc?
"With my life!"
Very well then. Your efforts are in vain, so I would save your needed energy.
"I don't take advice from zombies."
Bring me to my son!
Red eyes blazing. Sending the cry of alarm. My livid lust for him to burn in the lowest depths of hell.
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Rang walks in that night, higher than a Georgia pine, and what does he find? He finds his roomate lifeless on the floor in a pool of dark blood.
What does he do? He twitches. He snorkles. He smacks himself. He's OD'd and collapses.
The next morning, awaking to a sickly smell. Jake is already rotting. "What?" Rang growled, now aware something was up.
"Jake? Jake, I know you're…playing…right 'Kay wait, no pulse. Oops…you're, like, dead, man. Sorry, dude. That totally sucks."
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Summon the stars and tear down the heavens, anything to wake up. Murdoc, yes, MINE, he heard us rambling on. He bustled out of the Winne, unaware and unknowing.
"Cortez-the-Raven! What in bloody hell are you doing!"
"Kekekekekekekeek!"
"Come, boy. What--- has another zombie gotten loose? Calm down then, you never get this upset!"
If you knew, my only, if you knew. The thought.
"HOLY SHIT! DAD!"
"KEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKKEEKEKEKEKKEEKKEKEKEKEK!"
Thank you, Cortez-the-Raven. I appreciate your efforts!
The spirit extended his misty hand, smiling encouragingly at Murdoc.
Come with me. My son.
My Murdoc gave a shriek of utter horror and sprawled backwards.
"Minemineminemineminemine!" The words poured out, mineminemine, those which I had never spoken before. I say 'mine' to the dead man, and he WILL not take him away. Then again, this is Jacob Niccals. He doesn't play by the rules.
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wOOtness. Murdoc's fully up to par now! Cwapp! Wots he gonna do and this bothersome little undead fellow, shall he surrender Muds to his beloved Cortez or will everyone's favourite bassist retire to a life in Hell? –snickers- you'll hafta wait! reviews?