BUY AT:
Excerpt from HOW NOT TO TRAIN A ZOMBIE!!!
An older model, dirty
white utility van was parked in the gravel driveway next to a green truck with
a blue tarp draped over the cab. The large, bold lettering on the side of the
van was easy to read in spite of the thick layer of dirt.
Pratt’s
Extermination
We
take care of all your ZOMBIE problems!
Day
or Night
Call
830-207-DEAD
Max grinned as he read
the sign painted on the side of the van. “That’s so cool!” he said in an awe
filled voice. Then he saw the sign on the driver’s door.
No
ZOMBIE too big,
too
small, or too rotten
for
us to haul.
“That’s got to be the
coolest job anyone can have. If my dad was a zombie exterminator, I would be
bragging to everyone,” Max said as he slid off his bicycle and pushed it up the
driveway.
Max paused at the back
of the van. Standing up on the tips of his toes he tried looking in the back of
it, hoping to get a glimpse of something—preferably a zombie. Preoccupied with
trying to see something, he didn’t hear the crunch, crunch on the gravel.
“What are you doing?”
Max jumped back away
from the van as if it were too hot to touch. “I wasn’t doing anything.”