Home > Royer's Madcap Experiences > Royer’s Madcap Experiences: Zombie Mountain

Royer’s Madcap Experiences: Zombie Mountain

January 20, 2013 Leave a comment Go to comments

By The Great President of Hell (formerly Ric Royer)
File photo

The last town was the birthplace of a famous Lankville politician– there was a little log cabin with an historical marker out front. I parked along the side and found a tour guide.

“What the fuck’s up?” I asked, threateningly. “What the fuck’s this shit all about?”

He wouldn’t answer me so I pushed him aside and took a free fold-up map.

You passed out of town and then up a steep incline that led into the province game area– I could hear errant gunshots all around me and there were hunters in orange hats dead all along the road. I passed by quickly. When I finally got to the summit, the car died– there was a sudden explosion and the hood blew clean off. It was growing dark.

“Better find a barn to sleep in,” I thought. In the near-darkness, I finally located an abandoned structure on the opposite end of a dead meadow. I made my way towards it.

The doors were thrown open in a frank way and the roof was nearly gone. The entire shelter leaned heavily to the left. Someone had spray-painted THE END IS NEAR (YES!) on the side.

I fell asleep in some hay. I had a strange sequence of dreams in which ordinary, everyday objects were presented to me in a highly ceremonial manner. When I woke up, I was clear on the other side of the barn and I had thrashed my pants off.

It was dawn. A heavy storm was overhead– thick, black clouds enveloped the mountain and a strong wind blew through the thick cavities in the decaying structure. And then, coming through the meadow, I saw them. Mountain zombies. The worst sort of zombie.

I ran around back. Someone had left a pile of large, flat baking sheets with a long, explanatory sign. “These baking sheets are too large for a conventional oven,” it read. “They are of little use to me or anyone else in this area. Therefore, we are leaving them here near this barn because that’s what it says to do with them in the long, instructional manual. To leave them near a barn. I don’t know why it says…” I stopped reading– it was insensate. But I knew the sheets would make useful sleds.

And that’s how I got off Zombie Mountain.

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