Zombies Funny Novels & Stories

I had been gone only a few days, and they were already looking for a replacement to make burritos. So be it. I was a player, and they were ghosts. We were never meant to be on the same side. The kitchen was filled with danger—every creature crawling out was at least S-level. The players used a pile of items just to barely make one burrito. Some players remembered that ghosts didn’t eat human food and stuffed fingers, teeth, and other strange things into theirs. I walked into the kitchen, trembling, only to discover that the previously blood-soaked kitchen had instantly become spotless.

I let out an icy laugh, lifted my hand, and gave Chester a slap that left a red mark blazing on his cheek. "See? He's breathing!" I ignored Chester's howls, grabbed my aunt's hand, and pressed it against his neck. She jerked her hand back as if shocked, taking a moment to process. "Chester's not dead? Then what was all that before?" Chester, drenched in sweat from the commotion, scrambled to clear things up. "The hospital screwed up. I just had a bad reaction to some booze. "My body went into survival mode when my temperature tanked, and voila, I'm back.