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Good House Pets
by Michael A. Kechula

“Can I have a pet zombie for my fifteen birthday?” Billy asked his mom.

“No! Those horrible things eat people’s brains. Do you wanna wake up one morning and find all your brains gone?”

“The ones they sell at Zip-Mart ain’t like that,” Billy said, showing her a newspaper ad.

She read aloud, “Domesticated zombies make wonderful house pets. Fresh shipment just received from Haiti. Perfect gift for teenagers. Get your pet zombies while they last. Just $29.95 each.”

Billy’s mom acquiesced and bought one for his birthday. Calling it Skip, Billy taught it to roll over, beg, fetch Frisbees. Skip slept under his bed.

One night, Skip jumped into Billy’s bed, pressed against him and whispered, “I’m really a girl zombie. I can make you feel good all over.”


“Sure. Wanna see?”


Billy’s mom was alarmed when Billy didn’t get up for breakfast. Knocking on his bedroom door, she hollered, “Wake up! You’re gonna be late for school!”

When he didn’t respond, she peeked inside. Blood and brains were smeared all over his pillow.

“I told you zombies eat human brains! But you wouldn’t listen! Now look what happened! How the hell am I ever gonna get these stains out of your pillow case?”

What happened to Billy was repeated 5, 839 times that night across America.

Zip-Mart made a fortune selling blood-and-brains stain remover for pillow cases. Parents were upset when they discovered an ounce of stain remover cost twice the price of a pet zombie. On the other hand, the expenditure to remove the stains barely made a dent in the marvelous life insurance payments parents received for their massacred children.

At first many parents were dismayed. However, they soon realized having a fat wad of insurance money was far better than having a disobedient, insolent, slob of a teenager, who did nothing but destroy domestic tranquility.

Pet zombies became the hottest commodity in America. Parents bought, sold, traded, and rented them at an astonishing rate. Consequently, America’s teenagers became extinct.

With no more American teenage brains left to munch, all pet zombies headed for the nearest ocean, walked into the waves, and disappeared. Because they were never taught geography, they didn’t know that Canada and Mexico existed and had several million teens available with ripe, tasty brains.

When CNN announced that pet zombies had suddenly disappeared from America, the world’s parents urged Haiti to increase production. They mourned when the Haitian government announced that none were left, and no more could be produced. The illiterate witch doctor, who’d invented the pet zombie manufacturing process, had died before learning his ABC’s and how to write. Thus, pet zombie recipes existed only in the witch doctor’s decayed brain.

So far, every laboratory in the world has failed to replicate them to meet 1-billion back orders.

Until someone can devise a new way to create and mass-produce pet zombies, parents will have to put up with teenagers.