The Death of Cali??

Snorfod was picking up some wicked Mel Gibson Fu skills. He was a prominent student, with a lot of room in his brain to memorize the art. He would soon be able to take on anything. He would then be truly unstoppable.

Just then, that anything burst through the stamp-covered, second story window of the make-shift house.

Remember that zombie that kind of looked like John McCain?? That touched Snorfod's hat?? You know the one.

Well, somehow, that zombie acquired a chariot. That could fly. And he somehow fit his entire militia in it, too.

They flew down the stairs and snatched the calico Mayan up. Four men got out of the chariot and grabbed hold of a separate limb. They yanked and tugged and pulled until one hand popped off, then a leg, which the zombie promptly devoured.

Snorfod just stood there.


Then the undead creature grasped her head, and it was off, too. He put in a sack and retreated to his chariot. The horses pulling it whinnied and then galloped towards the first floor window, and bust through it, too, while Blanket screeched "My house!! My house!!"

Snorfod politely told her to shut the hell up.

"Cali….She was my best friend….My lover….and now she's--" She choked on the words while Snorfod choked on the deodorant he'd casually started eating, about the time John McCain had eaten Cali's left leg.

Lover??

Snorfod shook his head, because this whole damn thing was confusing, so OF COURSE they were together. How could he not have seen that coming??

"They broke her!!" Blanket cried. "Broke her!!"

And Cali truly was broken.

Forever.

Some might even say she was crippled.

To be continued….