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TopicCYOA: You've been raised from the dead by a necromancer.
HotLap
07/28/18 2:06:23 AM
#49:


C) Through violence.
D) Don't steal one at all, just ask a yacht captain if he'll give Mills a ride.


Your pace quickens toward the marina as you start to skip gleefully. You never thought you would miss this town, but after spending a month in heaven you never thought it would feel this good to be back. As you pass a morning jogger, you greet her with a friendly, "What a beautiful morning!"
She takes one look at you and immediately cries out, "Aaaaaaah! Oh my god!" She sprints past you as fast as she can and never looks back.
Huh. That was a little rude, but you are probably pretty terrifying looking. You try to smooth your rotting flesh back onto your bones in the same way a Wall Street banker tries to grease his hair down. Once people get over your appearance, they'll come to accept you as just another ordinary member of society who is trying to commit grand larceny.
A man checking his phone as his dog leads him down the sidewalk is approaching. As you get closer, the dog reacts poorly to the smell of death, baring his teeth and snarling at your presence. The man shoves his phone in his pocket as he shouts "Oh sweet Mary mother of JE-SUS!" while crossing the street to get away from you.

As you come to the next bench on your path you collapse onto it. You weren't expecting everyone to be so afraid of you. Granted, you're still riding pretty high from the bird songs and the skipping, but you're a little offended. You see a young blonde woman walking down the street in a short black dress holding her high heels.

"Hey!" you call out to her as she gets closer. "Can you sit down for a minute?"
You see her inhale through her nose then instinctively lean away from the stench. "Why?" she asks.
"Everyone's been running away from me," you respond. "I just want to have a normal conversation."
Pinching her nose, she says, "Well you stink like shit, dude. They're probably running away from the smell."
"That's not my fault. I've been underground for six weeks," you cross your arms and lean against the back of the bench.
The woman slowly takes a seat on the bench a few feet away from you before glancing around. "Am I still drunk? Or are you a zombie?"
You shrug. "You might still be drunk, but I don't think I'm a zombie. I don't want to eat brains or anything, but some thirteen year old kid did bring me back to life in a cemetery."
"What? That's innnnsane," she places her shoes on the ground. "How long have you been re-alive for?"
"Like a couple hours, probably," you tell her. "How long have-"
"Hey!" a shout comes from across the street. A man wearing a long sleeve plaid shirt and a hunting hat is staring at the two of you. "Are you alright?" he calls to the girl.
"I'm fine, thank you," she waves him off.
"Are you sure?" he confirms. "What is that thing?"
You stare at the ground as she shouts, "He's my fucking friend! Will you fuck off already?"
The man shakes his head and retreats into his car. The harsh language sent a shiver down your spine, but you're willing to forgive her since she stuck up for you. "Thanks." You hold out your hand. "I'm Slim by the way."
The girl pauses a moment to stare at your rotting fingers before firmly grasping your hand and saying, "Nice to meet you. I'm Jenna."
The man in plaid rolls up next to you two with the window down. "Are you suuuure-"
Jenna grabs one of her heels and hurls it at the car. "Get out of here! Go away!" Jenna's heel smacks slightly to the left of his gas cap, surely leaving a dent.
The driver looks bewildered at her. "Bitch!" he shouts as he speeds away.
---
You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.
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