"BLAAAAAUGH... OH, /#$"#.'$I%$...!"
Crash.
The other zombies howled with laughter as Plourgh's voice trailed off in a string of expletives. It was the fourth day of taping, and the cooking show was going to go well if this kept up, Jlurth thought, wriggling the bone on his left pinky till it oozed and there was more sweet pain. He'd really had a stroke of genius bringing in people this week who had killed the contestants. Heh. _I will get the best ratings - I'll beat Demon Chess this week if it disembodies me_! This was so good, it made a person nauseous. Two of the boom guys had already hurled as their cameras swung them around in circles following Plourgh. "Cut! Send in the next miscreant!" he yelled over the din. The Undead Chickens - victims of some voodoo craze - were practicing for their commercial-break-time.
A cute little toad princess hopped in. Zayla had made the best rotten pizza that week, so she had a shave for that challenge. Jlurth dreamed of squeezing his head into her thigh, she was so luscious when she changed form. Zayla detested him, though. She scowled at the director as usual.
For Zayla he'd found the witch who'd cursed her, or who claimed to have done it. The cash paid to guests on The Decomposing Chef was pretty good, and his stupid producer Wee Wee didn't do background checks too often. So any loon who wanted badly enough to be able to pay his or her way into Heaven or Hell could get on, with a good enough story.
Jlurth winked at the toad who ignored him, awaiting her cue to start talking. He wondered if she was this bad to guys when she was alive.
"Phone call," remarked his agent Micha, handing him a dead cell. "Your bookie."
Jlurth spat a tooth at him. The bookie was an important contact to have in the Live world. You got yourself into a sorcerer's library, you were doing well. Silverfish knew that, and they charged a hefty fee, but the info these insects found was invaluable. So the zombie could take a little grief.
"Yah?"
The voice on the phone was soft and eerie, like the back-end of a light breeze that came just on the edge of a storm at midnight, one that only your primitive brain caught hold of. It was an important fact that no live human could consciously hear that voice, unless maybe he or she were a Tibetan monk or something. "We have found the answer to your problem. You must throw out your old compunctions and give everything to the Save the Children fund..."
"Stop that!" Jlurth howled and threw his cell phone. It landed twenty feet away in a pile of garbage and fungi, as his camera men doubled over laughing. He glared at the stage, where Zayla was working on a chocolate cheese mushroom pie with scalloped edges. "Cue the witch," he snapped at the producer Elmo.
"But she's not due for..."
"Just do it!"
A large boom and a fluff of smoke announced the arrival of the witch to the set, as the bumper music from the Undead Chickens for the Decomposing Chef came whistling and snarling through the broken speakers. She was an ugly cow, Jlurth thought. He couldn't blame Zayla for saying whatever she'd said to the witch to get her to curse her.
The toad blinked and burped at the witch. "What is this - torture day?"
"For me, it is! I was at a spa picking up toenails for brew!" snapped the witch. "I expect to be paid recompense for every nail I missed. Spa day's my best harvest time."
The toad stuck her bluish tongue out at her. The aroma of green cheese was starting to waft over toward the audience, as the chocolate ghanache bubbled. But neither she nor her surprise guest were paying attention.
The witch frowned. "Who's responsible for this, anyway? ...oh... I get it now." She turned and spotted Jlurth, "You got the hots for this chick!"
He could almost feel himself coloring. "Listen, lady, this is..." he began.
That was when the pot exploded - all over the witch, who started screeching. "Penicillin! Penicillin!" she cried. "I'm allergic to penicillin! Don't you idiots check these things out before someone comes on your shows? What kind of a racket are you run - runn - runn-innnng... augh..." She was melting fast. Jlurth and the others watched in horrified fascination as bug-eyes became bug-eyes in a puddle.
"I'm so sorry," he tried to tell her, but it was too late. The last words Jlurth heard from that witch were "I hope you get what you deserve..." and he didn't like that one bit.
He tried to get them to go to cut but the producers said it was great television, and they went on. The show was changed, then, to have exclusive interviews with Zayla who was still cleaning up her kitchen. Chocolate and cheese were everywhere, and it was smelling - wonderful. And she looked wonderful...
Ye gods, he thought, _am I actually falling for a toad__? Yes, he was. Well he had the hots for her, but he'd never felt like this before, not even when alive centuries before this. Suddenly, Jlurth wanted to snuggle with this toad in the chocolatey-cheesy mess, to slather her body in it and spend the whole day nibbling on each other while bats shrieked upstairs.
He ran to her then and took her in his arms. "Oh, you're a mess, but I love you!" he cried. "You're the most amazing undead cursed princess I've ever met, and that's saying something, because in all the centuries I've been here in Purgatory, I've felt so alone. But at last, I have something to stand for, to look up to. To feel..."
"Get away from me!" she yelled, pushing him off, and he fell in the goo on the floor, while the crowd stamped and whistled. "You dumb ass! You just killed off my last chance at getting the curse removed! Christ take pity on me! I should have gone to a nunnery when I was live like my father wanted, instead of running away with Barry..."
"CUT! CUT, DAMN YOU! CUT..."
"Hey, Jlurth, you've another phone call," Micha yelled over the din, carefully making his way over.
Jlurth clapped the cell phone to his ear, trying to convince Zayla that she should really be his, if she'd only agree. Zayla didn't think so, though. She threw a pot of bad risotto with pigeon droppings at him. "Ow! But my dearest, moon of my moon... Yes?"
"We have an offer," hissed the voice on the phone.
Jlurth stuck a finger in his earwax. "Gotta speak up! I'm madly in love - I mean, I can't hear!"
"We know! About the noise, we mean. Mister Jlurth, you and this toad are spectacular. How would the two of you like to do a spin-off reality show about your lives?"
He almost dropped the phone. "Oh, but mien liepschitz is alas not mine... she belongs to someone named Barry." Tears were coming to his gooey eyes at the thought.
"Would you like her to belong to you? We could arrange for that," the voice murmured.
"Agreed!" said Jlurth, "...but..."
"No buts!" cried the producer, who'd been over talking to Zayla who was puking in a corner. "She says she'll do it if you fork over enough cash."
And so it was that Jlurth the zombie ended up married to Zayla the undead cursed princess and they lived sloppily ever after. Nobody knows why the witch's curse wasn't a curse after all, but Jlurth never cared. Because he found that in show business, you really can buy anything. He wished he'd known that when he was alive.
END