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Zombie Games: fantasy romance
Zombie Games: fantasy romance
Zombie Games: fantasy romance
Ebook47 pages32 minutes

Zombie Games: fantasy romance

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Here is Rod Crypton as a young zombie, before he even knew what he was, all the way from his first marriage in Iceland to his terrifying but potentially satisfying relationship with a sexy female werewolf, Vonzilla. This could happen to you.

Look around—pay attention—just don't make eye contact.

There are zombies all over the place, but they aren't the old time zombies you might have heard about before. These are full-fledged, real life smiling zombies—baby boom, even millenial generation X versions, and yes, sometimes they are in the theatre or in politics. Look around—pay attention—just be careful of their dating profiles--vampires, especially. Watch out!

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 8, 2019
ISBN9781386237785
Zombie Games: fantasy romance
Author

Pantson Fire

When Pantson Fire first started publishing his books, he benefitted from some amazing coincidences, like when a horse named Pants On Fire (Rosie Napravnik up) ran in the Kentucky Derby. He has had an up and down career, such as when his Canadian publisher went out of business.

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  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Zombie guys and werewolf girls. Sweet romance. Not horror. Light humor. Her ex was a vampire. She drove a Hummer. Recommended.

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Zombie Games - Pantson Fire

Table of Contents

Zombie Games (fantasy romance)

The unsaintly Patrick attempts to convert the Irish

Zombie Games

By: Pantsön Firè

Copyright © MMXXIV by J. J. Brearton

AvantLifeGuard Books

All Rights Reserved

Book One – The Theater

Book Two – The Seminary

Book Three - Side Effect

Book Four - Bromance Gone Crazy

Chapter One

The Theatre

I had come out to L.A. to be a screenwriter—thought I had enough money—but soon found out, after putting the first and last month’s rent down on an apartment in Huntington Beach, that I might not make it another ten days.

So, it was the classifieds that I was reading.

Went to a lot of interviews—nothing.

Then, I saw an ad about working in the box office at a local theatre. I knew this was not a high paying job, but I was desperate. I brushed up the resume, put in that thing about selling tickets for a film company back home in Cohoes at the Mastodon Theatre—figured that would help.

Then it was off to the Proctologeist Theatre in Skenecktidi, which is East of Anaheim.

I pulled the Barfmobile in front, up at the curb. Oh, you want to know why it’s called the Barfmobile?

My ex-girlfriend Christened it on the way home from a film festival in Troy, leaning her head out the window on 787, as I was trying to slow down from about 65, getting puke all over the side of my Buick Roadmaster. I didn’t blame her—didn’t complain—after all—she was an actress—quite good looking—but with a tremendous lack of capacity for liquor, and me, as I was soon to discover. She dumped me for a director—a six-five guy from Bombay. Yeah, she was a bit taller than me—and eager to get away. I can deal with that. For a guy with a big red birthmark on the side of his face, it was fun while it lasted. But, there was nothing more for me there, so, here I am, trying to forget about the birthmark, as usual—just trying to perish it from my mind.

Going in the front doors of the theatre, I saw a guy with waist length hair sweeping up the previous night’s debris.

I’m here for an interview, I said.

He looked me up and down. Then he said, Here for an interview? Sure. The office is right over there.

He pointed to my right. He held out two fingers—kind of weird. Then he put the cigarette holder back in his mouth. It held the flamed out butt of a smoke.

I knocked on a door that said, Office.

I heard

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