Posted on July 2, 2010 | 
The bottom of things—at this point the fat woman raised her enormous bottom from a chair that looked as small as a bicycle seat beneath the grand expanse of her haunches. Standing on what seemed to be a pair of ridiculously small and inappropriately sized feet clad in red tennis shoes, she waddled the few steps over to a corner next to the stove where an orange polyethylene tarp lay in a mound on the floor.
“Arnotine Ferucand,” she grunted, pulling back the cover.
The long-boned man lay upon the floor curled into a fetal position beneath the waxy orange tarpaulin. He was definitely dead and there were parts of him missing: one hand and a forearm, half a buttock and thigh. But the most unusual thing about the corpse tucked next to the stove was the expression it wore on its face. The dead Arnotine had a bright and deliriously silly look on his countenance. He looked happy and drunk, and Ryu found this shameful and vaguely upsetting.
—DEAD LOVE/Chapter 7.2/Arnotine Ferucand is Dead
zombie art courtesy of Bart Frescura, copyright Bart Frescura
