Some Zombie Stories, 6:
At the zombie carnival, every spring, nobody eats anyone’s brains, nobody shuffles in a horrifying manner while moaning, and almost nobody pushes their hands up through the dirt in a terrifying metaphor or prelude to the next film.
Instead, there are games of chance and skill. Zombies toss their hands, fingers circled into an "O", and try to land them on pegs to win withered stuffed animals, or throw an eyeball into a set of goldfish bowls containing zombie goldfish, the fish circling lazily and occasionally blowing bubbles. The bubbles are not breath. They are escaping gases from the decomposing tiny pets that will not (unlike the ones you bring home) die the next day. They are already dead.
There are rides, too, and though they are assembled by zombie carnies and not very safe, the zombies ride them without fear. Once, the Zoomer Coaster collapsed but it didn’t make headlines; the 20 zombies just calmly put themselves back together and went to get some cotton candy.
The cotton candy is fresh.
In 250=1 I write stories that are exactly 250 words long, including the title. Here's a list of all of them.
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