I Was a Gay Teenage Zombie by Alison Cybe

Author:Alison Cybe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Deep Hearts YA

26 March 2014

Our substitute teacher told us Mr. Swanson will be returning to us in a few weeks, but only for two days out of the week. It seems he wants people to go easy on him after he had his nervous breakdown and went mental. The rest of the class is already planning how to make him go really round the bend this time.

27 March 2014

I met Archer at the park at seven tonight. There was a rather anemic queue that wove its way around the outside of the fence towards a set of metal gates. It’s the fair’s first night, and only about two hundred or so people had bothered to turn up because the circus doesn’t open until tomorrow night. I had saved enough to pay for my own ticket, but Archer insisted he pay for the two of us instead. As we walked through the stalls, I noticed most of the games cost extra to play. Music blared through hidden speakers, each note slightly discordant and twisted. Near the entrance, a stall sold some half-melted ice cream and plastic beakers of watery beer. We walked past a ring-toss stall which boasted large teddy bears stuffed with leaking packing foam for prizes. Most of the young children looked around with unimpressed looks on their faces.

We both progressed through the stalls, each of which were manned by older teenagers who looked either entirely bored or were playing on their mobile phones. We looked at the Ferris wheel, saw the sullen man who was managing it between swigs from a conspicuous hip flask, and decided to try the ghost train instead.

I slipped into the ghost train carriage with Archer. The outside of the ride boasted some lovely and disturbingly gruesome artwork, showing a variety of movie monsters. In one corner, Freddy Kruger laughed maniacally while Batman skulked, I have no idea why, in the background, and Arnold Schwarzenegger gunned down a half-dozen neon-colored predators. While I debated the merits of the ghost train’s bizarre cinematic universe with Archer, the carriage shuddered to life and grinded into the ride, which boasted almost no artwork. It did, however, boast a few plastic skeletons, some string spider webs, and a single flickering strobe light. The carriage’s track rose a few feet higher, and started to speed up, before tumbling sharply down an incline with such abruptness I was certain the carriage was about to break loose from the track and crash into the hot dog vendor. My leg slammed into the front of the carriage as it hammered to a stop.

We both limped from the ride and, to help get the blood flowing back to my bruised leg, we began to walk through the stalls once again. I offered to buy Archer some dinner from one of the dodgy burger vans, but the cheapest one had a very creepy looking clown hanging around near it. Instead, we went to the hot dog stall near the ghost train. I paid for the hot dogs, which were £4.

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