Zombie

By Clifford Benjamin

ZOMBIE, sprinkled with murder, is about a demented chief executive officer extinguishing Kings and Queens and head of nations, anyone in between that gets in his way, and snatching women, detaining them, controlled by a modern type of horror in a shirt and tie, smooth-talking, willing as far as kill to have his way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669806295

Clifford Benjamin

I am a quiet person and friendly to most, and like helping people that need assistance. In addition, I have written a sum total of 16 books with an aim to write 20 books in all. My latest book is “ZOMBIE,” which I am proud to have the chance to write. Actually, the poor conditions we are living under in this country helped to inspire me to write ZOMBIE, such as having a president that doesn't give a damn about what people think about him regardless of what he does. The riot at the capitol was the breaking point not to mention how his actions helped influence law enforcement to out-and-out kill innocent black people and persons of color with them getting off without a scratch and not serving a day in jail. The George Floyd incident was different because a large amount of white people woke up and decided what Officer Chauvin did was way out of line while the president didn't say anything about the officer’s actions. Furthermore, he actually wanted the military to be brought in to fight against Black Lives Matter demonstrators who were peaceful throughout. There is not enough room here for me to state all the wrong he did here and aboard, and then boldly told the white women in the suburbs that he saved them from the blacks destroying their neighborhoods. It became clear to me his actions were actions of a mad man all the while as the bigoted republicans said nothing accept that the president was a member of the their party. My God, the man's reckless deeds killed thousands of innocents while the world watched in disbelief. Never before did this nation have a president that did not give a damn who cared. That's why I coined him to be a ZOMBIE, a monster of all monsters like Robert E. Lee, Hitler, Stalin, Alexander the Great, who had his General to burn down the temples in Egypt that held all the knowledge accumulated over centuries, that resulted in prominent white men stating that what Alexander did set the world back centuries and the world would have been more advanced. Check it out if you doubt what I claim. Yes, from the looks of things guys like the president comes around about every 50 years or so, not to mention his devoted followers who are also the equivalent of a monster, a real live ZOMBIE far more dangerous than the kind seen in movies. Hopefully, enough people will wake up and do something about the ZOMBIES on our streets, and everywhere. You can bet your bottom dollar, it has gotten so bad they are even in the Senate. Can't you see the similarity to a ZOMBIE. If you don't, you're just kidding yourself and fooling everyone that believe in you. I say to the world “WAKE UP” the ZOMBIES have arrived more now than ever.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

P RESIDENTS, I SUPPOSE, were children once.

It had been a long journey into night in the City of Hope, the melting pot, and so the adventure begins.

It was a dog day afternoon, a darn long era, and a wet hot American summer that two men sat at a desk, in a tomb with a view, with a nice pile of magazines near the edge, showing stacks, plural, fronted with the president’s moniker and image.

We have a problem, Sir, said the blue-eyed Attorney General, always wearing a suit for his daily grind … and for all intent and purpose had a neat way of memorizing information. The room was painted white. It appeared modern and antiquated and a tad smaller. As the room filled with smoke, he went on to add, I thought the fence would settle everything, POTUS. Sarcasm and irony are ingrained in his DNA; not knowing you combine self-deprecation with a dose of understated sarcasm is the ingredients of humor.

Silence and no comment, the soft background music playing could make anybody sleepy.

Believe me, nothing could compare to this, Ed said, aiming for what mattered, and the right arm to POTUS. He quickly and easily presented a large brown envelope, wearing a prim vested suit with necktie blocked primly against the collar button of his primly starched white suit.

President Robert K. Outcome, often called POTUS, a regular embarrassment of riches, and a nose for revenge, priding himself to be a runaway Bonanza, huffed then took the item from Ed’s grasp and asked, What’s this? Most that knew him was aware

He was a bundle of inconsistency, and lay claim to being related to someone of notoriety. That person being Hitler. A distant cousin on his mother’s side.

Shrugging his board shoulders, Ed said, I think you need to look at this," said Ed, noticing POTUS was wearing the same Apple Watch as him.

POTUS straightened his eyeglasses, clearly not Washington’s best, set with a foot upon the desk shining expanse of polished wood, just like back on Feb. 6, 1975, when President Gerald Ford and First Lady Betty Ford put their feet up in the White House’s living quarters. From its opening in 1800, through one nasty bit of arson and several renovations, the White House had been the home of every president but one: George Washington! POTUS’s nefarious bullish nature, signaled by his ‘dry’ and ‘dictatorial’ mouth and perverse and turbulent nature, was a kind of hollow person who only ever laughs for show. That often prompted him to roll his eyes and to open a package as if it was Kryptonite. After doing that, he breathed a sigh of relief. He then brushed the envelope aside with one wipe of his childlike hands. POTUS was a careless person, set adrift on memory bliss, smashing up things, and then retreating into his money or his vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept him together and let other people clean up the mess he had made.

He considered himself one smooth operator and naughty by nature fixated on ruling the world and a stone rebel without a pause and insane in the brain, coupled with a dark, twisted fantasy consisting of fear of a black planet. The bottom line it was him against the world and to get rich or die trying, a staunch believer in the ‘Greatest Story Never Told,’ totally out of line with the Big Picture, with a stone-cold attitude, hot, calm, and vicious.

Although he and Ed worked closely together, his best friends were Paul, Amanda, and Quinn, but their relationship had soured.

POTUS then pulled a plate of salad in front of him and munched on it. It was sad that this man, some would say it was like the Kacken was released, was akin to the BLINDMAN’S BUFF. One other thing, it was a complete myth he had royal blood. In addition, he was what is known as a round character, complex, realistic, and unique.

To put it differently, clearly, he was no Johan, said to be a member of a race of giants in Norse mythology, but could tell he had a bully platform. Too many, the question was, how did the myth get so firmly established in the popular consciousness?

Looks like you are on the path to becoming a vegetarian, Ed surmised, needling him as usual, a bit flushed after scribbling at his desk, distressed having pored over a book on the train, and now staring intently at a computer screen.

A stone-cold Wasp—white Anglo-Saxon Protestant, genuinely mystified by his success, a mind vitiated by prejudice, POTUS asked, In the first place, not only … but also, this is my way of counting fucking calories. Have you noticed? He then bit into a blood orange, the juices covering his lips and dripping downward.

Many people don’t know blood oranges are rich in antioxidants and help reduce oxidative stress and lower the risk of chronic health problems like cancer, heart disease, and diabetes.

Noticed what, POTUS? Ed questioned, lively in temper, conduct, or spirit basically, known as a flat character, one-dimensional, with a single overarching trait and otherwise limited personality or individuality.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and hell’s bells, can’t you see what’s going on? My stomach for Christ’s sake, glancing at the imaginary mountain of work on his desk, taking the fork and stabbing at more victuals, then gulping it down, seeming upset but far from having a meltdown from fatigue or overstimulation. In effect, POTUS was looking for a financial windfall due to come soon. Trouble was his expectations were always on the high side, but not on edge, fortunately. He then said, Today, I hit my job peak."

Taking a hell of things into account, Ed said, Sir, this is too important; just kick it to the curve. Opening the envelope, he pulled out what looked to be a document stating ‘Top Secret.’

POTUS, a monosyllabic hunk of bark, stopped his munch and asked, No problem. Hang on. Okay, go for it. What does it say? Let’s get down to it. Hurry up. You got my undivided attention.

The silence was apparent. It was evident, Ed, innocent, POTUS, jaded.

This takes the cake. Don’t keep me waiting. You know I’ve got to call my henchmen Chucheve Dosmitenoy, POTUS of Russia, in a bit. It was funny how his plans of becoming an astronaut were a dead dream. Therefore, he knew he should be more realistic.

I know, sir; it says here that the extreme left has concluded that the extreme Right has become infected with a disease.

Hold on. That shouldn’t ne’er be top secret. Wouldn’t you think I know what I’m talking—what kind of disease?

Do you mean the top-secret or do you mean—

God-dogged Ed, get on with it and get to the damn point.

Oh—lighten up; I will just give me a second. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Well POTUS, it claims, America now has become infiltrated with people they call Zombies and that they are dead from the neck up. Ed thought to himself, ‘POTUS seems to make sense when you talk to him at first, but the more you listen, the more it seems he’s a few cards short of a deck.’

Shit, cried POTUS, I never figured this day would come. He couldn’t imagine inclusion in that bunch.

Ed said, It does seem like it has come down to that particular day being upon us. The phone ringed. Let me get this. See, I do know how to get to the phone faster than you.

Stop being critical, said POTUS, but I must admit I like how loud you play your music. And I do love it when the trains delay. Strangely, as it may seem, when that happens, I sometimes feel like I’m a knockout king of the world."

POTUS answered the call. It was his attorney.

Ed’s back turned as he asked POTUS, You got it?

POTUS: Yep, he said to Ed and then said to the caller, "I’m a bit tired Marcus, had to hit the snooze button several times this morning. Put the thing is, there has been a paradigm shift.

The shit has hit the fan, Marcus," he said to his attorney and fellow student. But, of course, they didn’t have much money when they were students, and they got by on a frugal amount. Or, more precisely, the smell of an oily rag most days to keep from going off the deep end.

Don’t sweat it, Marcus uttered. More important than anything else, you should just keep on lying, giving the extreme right what they want. As they say, ‘In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.’

POTUS let out, I guess you’re right. Thing is, even the whale is becoming extinct, his voice broke off. Have I steered you wrong yet? We’re not fucking white nationalist for nothing, and you know what else we are, failing at filling in the blanks.

Both broke out laughing heartily, laughing all honesty out of fashion, their laughter trailing off less and less to a temporary quiet.

You know I know that. Once America is taken, then we take over the world. Hitler had the right idea. Then the strangest thing happened. Back in his mind, he heard a little birdie say: "Are your thoughts worthy of you? If not, now is the time to change them. You can begin right where you are. Nothing matters but this moment and what you are focusing your attention on.

Most people direct most of their thoughts in response to what they observe (bills in the mail, being late, having bad luck, etc.) Break that pattern." One of POTUS Achilles’ Heels was his inability to free himself from the cumbersome impossibilities of needing to control the world, his friends, his mate, or his children, signifying nothing.

Marcus broke up his thoughts by saying: "That’s my guy. Keep that in mind. I don’t think I ever told you my friend went on a murder weekend, killing three people, gutting them to boot with a twelve-inch bowie knife, and now doing life?"

POTUS: "Nah, you never did, but back to the conversation. As I was saying, once we do all that, I will put the blacks back into slavery. I can’t wait to get my hands on one of their light-skinned young bitches and make some pick ninnies and then sell them off into slavery. Well, enough on that.

Got to run, said POTUS, placing the phone in its crater.

Nevertheless, Marcus asked, What did Ed have to say? I hope he quit snorting coke.

I can’t rightly say if he has or not.

That guy Ed seems nice, said Marcus.

On the contrary, POTUS said, Oh, Ed’s the worst, then winked at Ed. He acts nice when you first meet him, but then he’ll ask you for money and never return it, and eat all your food without any offering anything in return, and I once saw him throw a rock at a puppy. Thank God he missed. POTUS knew he was blowing things out of proportion but got a kick out of lying to Marcus. As to Marcus’s comment about Ed doing drugs, even he knew there’s not a snowball chance in hell Ed would still do that."

Well aware that hopes and positive feelings open energy pathways and create happier biochemistry and stress is a silent killer. So, everything considered, Ed leaned over and whispered in POTUS’s ear, saying, That’s surprising Marcus would say I smoke coke. You know that’s not true. I use to but quit cold turkey years ago.

POTUS looked down his nose at him and then said oddly, I tend not to trust people who live in tiny little houses.

Ed said, What? Why on earth you feel that way?

Marcus broke into the conversation, letting Ed know he had heard every word. Thanks for the update, Ed. He then said to POTUS, "Now where were we?

Marcus then hung up the phone.

POTUS went back to do what he usually does, making phone calls and signing bills into law till darkness dropped again.

CHAPTER 2

A FTER HIS CONVERSATION with Marcus, POTUS dipped a spoon down into a cup of fray frozen yogurt and pulled it out and put it in his mouth, and started the process all over again.

Just out of the blue, POTUS said, Why is it that it rains all the time in D.C.? He then sneezed.

Ed said, Gesundheit! He then responded by saying, Don’t worry, you’ll soon acclimatize.

After noticing the stick layer of dust had accumulated in the room, POTUS asked, Tell me, Ed, what the ram said to his wife?

Keen on the ability to conclude something without making a mistake, Ed thought for a moment, then the answer popped into his mind, causing his answer right to the living end to crash land on I love ewe.

Good grief, you got it. Great.

Ed then said, I got one for you, mister wise guy.

What is it?

What did the mayonnaise say when the girl opened the refrigerator?

POTUS put his finger to his mouth as if in deep thought, then said, Close the door, I’m dressing!

They cracked up, laughing at each other and then laughing at themselves.

Then there was a momentary silence, both thinking to their selves.

POTUS was first to speak. Damn that there Madonna Louise Ciccone is one cool dance musician, don’t you think?

I’ll say that gal got oodles of talent, and all the Nasties Amazes me.

POTUS said, The salvages in Las Vegas are wild over the Statue of Liberty built to stay free. He then closed his eyes and visualized having what he already wanted—and the feeling of having it already.

Ed chimed in, How about that? Oh, how I like being the rainbow in someone’s cloud. For some strange reason, he found himself wondering to himself: ‘how long will it take? There are no rules on time. You don’t need to know how the universe will rearrange itself just for you, but trust that it will. The more aligned you are with positive feelings, the quicker things happen.’

The silence was telling.

After a time, the sound of someone moaning the words, Give me that dick. That’s right. Give me all of it, every inch of it. Oh, God is good.

POTUS asked Ed, Did you hear that? He leaned over, slightly curious as a bed bug, his face filled with confusion.

No. What…

Quiet.

As I said—

You must be silent. Then you will be able to hear it better.

Ed jerked his head in the direction of the door. I just told you, POTUS, I did not hear any…. But, of course, it never entered his head; POTUS would lie to him at all.

Be quiet. POTUS straightened his shoulders. Hear that? He was anxious. I tell you, there’s something funny going on in that room.

Ed lowered his head as if he was in a battle on the war front.

Suddenly, without warning, a man’s voice grunted, Dag gone girl, you know how to suck cock.

You say that to all the girls, she giggled—a laugh somewhere between a chuckle and a snort.

See, I told you, said POTUS, raising the point. This fucking house is a haven compared to mine.

Ed’s eyes squinted as he said, You were right.

POTUS said, Isn’t nothing like the real thing, baby. But, by the way, who the hell is that?

Damn if I know.

Go find out. And keep your eyes on the prize.

Why would you want me to do that?

Let’s say it is protocol. Anyway, I am POTUS and must know who in God’s name is screwing some pussy in a room next to my office.

Ed shook his head and then threw up his hands. You’re right.

Hell yeah, I’m right. It’s just a simple matter of doing as I say, for a change. Now get to it.

Without further ado, Ed said, Well, I’d like to believe that, then slumbered with haste out the room and looked through a cracked door and returned to the Oval Office.

Did you see who it is?

It’s just, ‘the ready for love character,’ Jake, the janitor.

You mean Jack. Who’s the pussy?

That’s Margaret. It was a story as old as time, to what she was doing was like sleeping with the past, since Jack was just a janitor in status.

Margaret? Isn’t she Senator Gumption’s daughter?

One hundred percent, Ed mumbled.

POTUS, with a black icy stare, said, To my opinion, she would be better off dead than mess around with no nothing Jack. She needs to look at the big picture. On the other hand, though, you may already know, she’s one cauliflower, quite a looker with a nice piece of ass.

Ed said, You’re right. Pretty hot and tempting that gal was PHAT! Hell, did I tell you, I can resist anything but temptation?

You know what, asked POTUS, furrowing his brow. Skip that. What I need is for you to set things up so I can get that ass.

Ed said, "They say a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and you can get what you want if you work toward it. So, what you just asked of me is fine by me, POTUS. I wish I could join you with that."

Why is it?

Ed said, I thought you knew.

Knew what?

Things have got so bad I can’t get it up. But besides that, I still love her, and before anyone else, she’s my new BAE. In addition, backed up worse than the Hoover Dam."

You mean constipated?

That’s right, POTUS. Honest to God. I’m just about shooting blanks—like sterile.

POTUS detected a tinge of envy in his tone. It was like music to his ears, as he said, "Lucky me, my dick can still salute. Knowing that fuses blow if they are overloaded, his words were not evasive. It would be man-to-man.

Plus, he was aware that Ed had a habit of being economical with the truth, like telling lies or wrong about Ed.

So you’re saying you’re not having any difficulty saluting a flag?

POTUS said, That’s for sure. My wife likes it so much she can bust a nut every time. I’m so good in bed; she calls me Clock Man.

Woo-lee, Ed uttered, scratching his brushy chin, knowing that if he tried to have sex with another woman, it would be like bringing owls to Athens. In other words, it would be pointless. But, on the other hand, his wife would surely get back at him by going out and having sex with another woman.

Oh, well, Ed will survive, I reckon. With any luck, he may get out of this deep web.

POTUS said to Ed, I forgot to tell you, got two tickets that my son gave me for the game this coming Friday. But he changed his mind decided to go to a basketball game to watch the Nets play. So, head over hills, he is for his pregnant fourteen-year-old girlfriend, and he twenty-three. I don’t know what’s with these kids these days. So, Ed, I wondered if you would go with me, so I won’t lose the money I put out. What do you think?

At one point, Ed told him, Well, hell yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll be out of circulation when it comes to going to a game. I’ll do it. Appreciate you asking.

Great, said POTUS

Ed said, Based on the fear of missing out, I’m only going with you because I have a major case of FOMO.

FOMO, said POTUS, Oh, skip it, just that I’m behind the times anyway. So what’s the use of trying to keep up with things?

Ed muttered to POTUS, You only live once; you better go on that trip. YOLO! not expecting a reply back at all.

POTUS just hummed to himself as if in another universe.

Ed mumbled again as if to get POTUS’s attention, saying to him, Keep it simple stupid you don’t have to reinvent the wheel, KISS, and then, laugh out loud you’re so funny, LOL!

He knew POTUS had a habit of pushing it to the limit. But as to him, when he was but a little, young and foolish, snot-nosed whippersnapper, he visualized himself counting money, carrying bags of cash and drugs, marrying a beautiful wife, and moving into a fabulously expensive home, a mansion perhaps. But he knew that for some just beginning to taste, success would ultimately claim their soul. And that would be the jump-off point if his dream were to occur.

Even though POTUS had grown quiet, quieter than usual, Ed said, I can’t believe it.

What, POTUS asked, seemingly brought out of his stupor.

It’s just sometimes you can have that, E.G., Evil Grin, Ed said subsequently.

Nevertheless, POTUS said, Can’t rightly do much about that.

You know what? said Ed.

What?

Have you ever thought about Singapore trying so hard to catch up with Japan when it comes to technological advancements? Fancy that…

Ed responded by simply saying, I hope they do. I mean Singapore, that is.

Tell me, Ed What exactly is the sound of happy?"

For the rest of my life, I don’t have the slightest idea.

POTUS said, I mean, is it hands clapping?

As I said, I don’t have the slightest.

"Yeah, I know, you did say that. But could it be the thump of your heart in your chest? Or is it the zoom of the planes overhead? I mean, is it the absence of a good ha-ha or the lack of a boo-you-hoo-you-hoo? What is the sound of happiness to you?

Fed up, Ed threw up his arms and said, As I said before, I don’t rightly know. Don’t have any idea how to answer that question.

Imagine you should, Ed. You’re old enough not to know.

To that outrageous insult, Ed snapped back at him, Damn it, POTUS, I gave it to you straight, let’s drop it. Okay?

No reply, just extraordinary silence.

Ed said, One more thing before I leave. That is, I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than be stifled by dry rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. So I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time well.

Getting no response, Ed realized that POTUS wasn’t concentrating on what he was saying and had disappeared into a brown study, a melancholy mood accompanied by deep thought. He paused a moment, then closed his mouth and walked out of the office, knowing POTUS wasn’t a good sort in his heart of hearts, outside the line, not sticking to the rules, anyway, he refocuses because he made his weekly appointment at the halfway house some blocks away. Also, knowing, all too well, there’s nothing worse than getting a worm in your apple.

So whenever he mentioned the place to POTUS, he ranted on like a Dutch uncle for a whole hour, signifying nothing at all. So in light of that, he decided not to mention his attending the Halfway House. In other words, he paid lip service to the cause but hasn’t lent a hand yet. After all, it was not like he made millions and was king of the hill.

Before it became a knotty problem, he was right to stop bringing up his itinerary, like where he goes and such things of that magnitude. Well, regardless, when life gives you, lemons make lemonade. Just complete the best out of the problematic situation.

Anyway, his brother-in-law was having another one of his fancy parties on Saturday, time to go down the rabbit hole again. It was like mentally going somewhere surreal or strange.

Another thing was that he suffered from dumb luck when he got a sore back due to the golf game a few days ago. Perhaps he might use that as an excuse not to attend his brother-in-law’s party. He would chew on it a bit.

Shortly, full of vim and vigor and not quite ready to buy the farm, he was now in his car, knowing all roads lead to Rome as fowls of the air fly nearby. He stepped on the gas headed to the Halfway House, knowing he could not compare to POTUS because the two were like apples and oranges and wondering if it would be a black day tomorrow.

Regardless, he would fake it till making it, portraying himself as he had wanted to be, knowing that he would turn up at the location if going north or south, knowing six of one and half dozen of the other was against the grain to tackle dishonest people.

One other thing he had learned and would guild him along through the good and evil is that faith is like a strenuous uphill climb: a single stumble might send you sprawling, but belief and steadfastness will see you to the very top.

CHAPTER 3

N O ONE KNOWS how to love anybody’s trouble.

There’s a calm surrender to the rush of the day as it eased in, which would prove to be the longest day of the year, signifying morning had broken POTUS, his abdominal muscle a bit stiff, then got up and said good morning to the night, then made breakfast, consisting of cereal, juice, and toast. He was overwhelmed with how beautiful an autumn day it was—the leaves were an awe-inspiring palette of deep reds, vibrant oranges, and bright yellows, the wind wafted through the crisp air, and the sun shone brilliantly through puffs of cumulus clouds.

Then after working an entire week and keeping every nut and bolt screwed tight, Saturday rolled in and turned into a