Transmissions from WZMB Free Radio Zombie

THE PETTING ZOO AT 6:31 A.M.

(from, Enter Starbreath):
(Also being lyrics from “The Moor, the Terrorist, His Knife and the Other”.)
Based on The Final Heartfelt Transmissions of WZMB Radio Zombie by the Meme-Rider formerly known as Sir Froon, the Almighty of Eugene, Oregon circa 2001


Video culture:

Music is played from a candle lit canopy near side the immense cracker fortress. The music is calm and soothing the way waiting rooms anesthetize the very air. Somnambulistic shadow puppets appear and slip away under the covers of feed and hay. Brays, whispers, and hiding laughter filters under the crack of the door. It percolates in our midst and evaporates into breath.

Meme culture:

Whether Petri dish or petting zoo? An afterlife of consumable detritus. Bed bugs. Hearing aids. Prosthetic thumbs. Cushioned hard drives. Perfect and obsolete, in a dumpster. On top of boxes and unopened containers, docile in their intention and becoming rigorous.

Weather culture:

The way we figured out how to make grain alcohol from forgotten memes. Clouds in their meaning bask over top of our ceiling cover. Wood and plaster, meant to withstand just about anything. I was meaning to come to terms with the underbelly of the future, but I only ended up angry at the weather.

The Afterlife of GMOs:

The undead by comparison are never angry. They merely react to their environmental constraints. They are not conscious of what they want as much as they are what they want. Their sanguinary lust and their understanding of the universe are exactly the same. Need is not in play, neither is desire. A zombie will walk all night in familiar patterns dictated by all the dèrive of existence they can accumulate. Following the city from starlight to streetlight. Not so much walking and somnambulating as following alone with purpose and intention neither proceeding each other or acknowledging themselves. Not hunting, not looking. No ‘in search of feral humans’. No tracking prey. No prayer. Moonlight and gaslight. The ancient rays of satellites too far away to come to terms with and close enough to spit interstellar dust on push the undead through shopping malls, shoe stores, alleyways and bus stations. Tears are their pretty bones.

A Foul Rag and Bone Shoppe:

It glistens in the sun shower. Sleek as buckshot. From a tree house hurdles fall into a riverbed and gush rivulets of glycerin. The ‘corpsicles’ dangle unexpectedly in the tube of hope. An afterlife pushed to extremes, or possibly taken in out of the rain, grips hold of your leg as you step accordingly by. The shock is enough to make sweat dollop on your forehead. Leaning over the candelabra is a chair with no one in it.





WZMB Radio Zombie

August 19 at 6:47 P.M.:

Avery:
Hello folks. This is Avery, the Toxic Rocket, and you are listening to the DIY Zombie Resistance Hour on 99.6 WZMB Radio Zombie, give us a call. It is 1-800-222-9016. We have a few prizes to give away. Two litters of gasoline for the tenth caller and a pack of tupelo cigarettes for the first caller to know the answer to today’s trivia question. “What is the function of the cerebral cortex in invertebrates?”

My co-host, David didn’t make it after the recent wave of undead pestilence, so later in the show we are going to have a moment of silence for him, who is survived by his young daughter, Nadine. The endless fighting aside, it is good to be back after a few days off the air. Tracking the storm out there, high winds, and not too many low-pressure areas. Traffic is still frozen and unmanned out on 275. So all you folks commuting home take care and avoid Exit 45. We have a great show today, an international expert on zombies and zombie eradication is here! Reggie, zombie hunter point five-eight with the Rolling Stone Shockwave Militia, is joining us in the studio today.

Reggie:
Hello.

Avery:
He is back from a vacation in the Galapagos Islands where some of the most intense fighting has been going on. The undead in the southern hemispheres have been in perpetual states of natural selection and simultaneous deterioration. Can you talk with us about Galapagos Reggie?

Reggie:
Glad to Avery…well as many of your listeners out there know several squadrons of the living have been sent into the Galapagos Islands to quell the uprising dead. The undead have been swimming to the islands down there because of the Deep Darwin Subsonic Beacon, or DDSB, as some call it. It is a super low frequency beacon that summons the undead by registering in their fetid brains as the smell of blood, what some scientists have been calling the ‘sanguinary lust’. These things only know blood. They want it. “They smell brains. Ooooohhhh!!! Aaaagghhh!!!” That kind of thing, you know, it just goes around and around. But when Dr. Quine invented the frequency beacon it was a good thing, like we may actually squash the living dead and get back to our normal lives without having to kill our undead children that are trying to eat our brains, or our next-door neighbors who want nothing more than to rip our children’s intestines out of their bellies and slurp it up, like horror soup. We are sick of fending off and killing off!

Avery:
Well it sounds like you are feeling optimistic about this.


Reggie:
Oh and I am truly. It is phenomenal. After a few weeks down there I killed maybe 230 of those things. Headshots. Their rotten brains spraying back into the ocean mist they just swam out of, horrible monsters that they are. Never thought as a child that this was going to be my life.

Avery:
Why don’t you tell us about your childhood, maybe a normal story or some sort of fond memory you have of yesteryear. Something nice.

Reggie:
Well I grew up in Detroit. Father was a surgeon. Pediatrics. Mother was a peace activist. Mostly global warming type stuff, pretty standard upstate liberal type thing. Bar Mitzvah was standard, whirling dervishes and gypsy music. Fell in love at eighteen to a brunette named Anna Doyle. Married four years later. No kids. She went a year ago right after ‘the surge’. Did her self after a bite.

Avery:
Wow, Detroit, huh? That was a nice town, the place where it all began. Of course all our listeners know the story of the Motown Zombie Virus.

Reggie:
Reanimation of the dead via viral memes. Music.

Avery:
Motown.

Reggie:
They just wanted to dance.

Avery:
That isn’t all they wanted.

Reggie:
Right, well, you know how it went. They followed the music to the brain. Gulp, gulp. Like a goddamned nightmare on 8 Mile, we tried to quarantine them. Put up that fence around the 8 Mile Highway, let them boogie down until they ran out of food, thought they would just die out. But they were already dead. You really can’t kill them, only eliminate their afterlives.

Avery:
I remember the day it happened. Where were you Reggie?



Reggie:
In the thick of it. Me and the Mrs., were downtown Detroit, at a charity auction for the militia group. Sitting at a table, sipping Chardonnay, and this thing walks into the ballroom, dancing. But dancing wrong, you know. You know how they dance, sort of slow electric slide on peg legs. It sat down at the table and started eating Mrs. Vanderhoff’s shoulder. We thought it was just some drunk guy. But the blood was real, then the bone and then Mrs. Vanderhoff was just like it, dancing all wrong and biting the air.

Avery:
Some night. Did you stay there and fight?

Reggie:
Well, like I said it was a charity ball for a militia group. Everyone was packing. We looked outside and the city was getting overrun. We grabbed our gear, formed squads and boarded up the ballroom. We had plenty of food and water and liquor. Just had to get those rotten flesh-eating whatnots either dead again, or into the street. It was like, “Boom! Boom!” Then the bodies were being dragged to the roof, where we just dumped them into the street below.

Avery:
Well, let’s take some calls. Caller your on the air.

Caller:
Hi, is this Avery the Toxic Rocket?

Avery:
Yes. Go ahead.

Caller:
Yeah, well, I just want to say that I love your show and I listen to it all the time. And I just wanted to ask about this problem I have.

Reggie:
What seems to be the problem young lady?

Caller:
Actually, my name is Denny. I am a male.

Reggie:
My humblest, please forgive me.

Avery:
Yes, Denny. How can we help you?


Denny:
My uncle Roger went two months ago and my auntie, who I live with tied him to his Lazy Boy Chair, so that he could spend Christmas with us, but Christmas was two weeks ago and she still has him tied to the Lazy Boy. What do I do?

Avery:
Well, you need to kill your uncle Denny. He is no longer the uncle you may have loved at—

Denny:
Actually I always hated him.

Avery:
But, you must see that there is only one way to fix the problem.

Denny:
Well, I tried to bash his head in while my auntie was making breakfast yesterday.

Reggie:
What were you using?

Denny:
A hair dryer, it was all I could find.

Reggie:
A hair dryer?

Denny:
Yeah, I was whacking him on his head as hard as I could but he just kept staring at me, with his mouth open and biting the air. Moaning and such, then my auntie came in with breakfast. She said for me to cut it out and leave him alone, he isn’t hurting any one.

Avery:
You said Christmas? She wanted that thing to spend Christmas with you guys?

Denny:
Oh, yeah, it was weird. She gave him presents and put them in his lap. He couldn’t open them. It was like he didn’t even know he was holding them. She ended up opening them for him and putting the new socks on his feet. He is all stinky now though. It is a sick gross smell, like I want to puke. She feeds him gerbils and he eats them. It is gross and he smacks his lips all gross when he eats them.

Avery:
Sounds like she has ZDD, zombie denial disorder. She won’t accept the fact that her husband is now a zombie, incapable of love. If she keeps it up Denny, you are going to have to kill her too.

Denny:
Yeah, I know, but…


Reggie:
But nothing son, you kill it! You stop this thing, no more boogie down on the flesh of the living. You can’t quarantine them. You can’t encapsulate and keep them. Anything, anyone gets in your way of survival and the freedoms of living alive, you kill. Headshot. Bang! Lose this worry about pleasing your auntie, tell her flat out, “I am going to kill it. It is not your husband. If you won’t let me kill it, I will kill you, then I will kill it. And should you turn into one of them I will kill your undead stinking corpse again!”

Denny:
But she is my auntie! She raised me after my Mom died. I was only a baby.

Avery:
Reggie is right Denny. It is the only way. Thank you for calling.

Reggie:
Yes, young Denny. Blow its fucking brains out.

Denny:
Well I love your show. Thanks.

Avery:
Thank you, goodbye.

Denny:
Goodbye.

Click.

Reggie:
Breaks my heart every time. But the fight is real, you know.

Avery:
Absolutely, next caller, hello you are on the air.