Perfect Teeth

“Move slowly,” Erik told himself as he stared into the pale eyes of the zombie. His right arm was outstretched. His hand holding the glass door open. The zombie’s leathery nose flared as Erik slowly moved his hand backward. The zombie took in a deep breath and reveal it’s rotten… no perfect teeth. It lunged forward. Erik paused for a moment, he saw the teeth polished and healthy.

“What the hell,” Erik shouted as he withdrew his hand. The zombie shoved the door into the adjacent door and the glass shattered. The creature squared it’s body with the frame of the open doorway and bared it’s teeth.

“Gary!” Erik shouted. “Gary, have you been brushing your teeth? I lost my teeth six months into this tragedy and you have thirty-some tighty-whities two years later. What the hell… I thought we were friends. You know we can’t be friends anymore… liar.”

Erik dropped the bottle of whiskey from his left hand and grabbed the left side if the zombies head. He attempted to push it sideways. The creature resisted as Erik’s hand began to sink into the rot on its face. The zombie turned it’s face and Erik’s arm came within intches of those perfect teeth.

“My god, Gary,” Erik shouted then shoved the zombie backward with his foot. The zombie fell backward into a stove shelf. The dusty products cascading to the floor. The noise echoing of the walls. Another zombie growled or was it a delightful squeal? It stumbled through the darkness of the warehouse.

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