A Very Zombie Valentine's Day

Acceptance, it's a hard thing to find in this world. Our friendship worked. I needed a confidant, a non judgmental companion. You needed sociopath who could rip the heart out of a zombies chest in two seconds flat. The natural attraction between male and female lingered. Yet, neither of us wanted mess up the core of our friendship despite the worlds apocalyptic state. We took up with religious nuts, new pilgrims amidst death. Not because we agreed with their cloying theology. They were simply human and that was rare. They didn't like us. But, it was hard to ignore a bitch with a Hello Kitty Ak-47 and her male sidekick. I provided protection, you came with the package. Thus, we were allowed to stay. I had hoped you could find someone to drag down into the cesspool of your desires. I hated that you were lonely, in need. I knew a killing machine could never provide the things you wanted. The pious were not so easily swayed. Machiavellian wheels turned. You teased me when I started the book club. I let you believe I had taken in interest in Oprah Winfrey's taste in literature. The fact that I had torched the zombie cunt with a flame thrower for attempting to eat Liam Neeson was somehow lost on you. I found a house with electricity and that pleased you. You knew you were receiving a gift. You were puzzled to find out the bag of Orville Redenbacher I had popped was not your intended present. This now archaic delight was mine alone. With a smirk, I revealed my book club, naked, gagged and bound. A flogger and a set of knives, was the only explanation you needed. Ak-47 in hand, I settled by the window. This Valentines was to be a special day not to be sullied by any shambling corpse. You had watched me behead, torch and obliterate hearts in a shower of bullets with quiet awe. I found your sexuality just as fascinating. I ate my popcorn and watched absorbed. When betrayed eyes met mine and a trembling ungagged voice begged to know "Why?" I felt no need to divulge the truth to these so called literates. How could I explain the importance of true friendship? Instead, I coldly backhanded her and replied "Because you made me read Tuesdays with Morrie you fucking bitch!" Sociopaths hate that touchy feely shit!