Finally, Some Good News (Part 4)

19 Feb





The Zombie Zone

Marcy Pendergrass was putting up the Halloween decorations. The one hot girl in the office. He’d been promoted but his cubicle was the same. Gray desk behind a gray wall five feet high. She held two rolls of fake police tape with cartoon letters. Do you want the vampire zone or the zombie zone, she asked.

I don’t have a preference.

He’d been looking at a grid of consumer packaged goods branding executives. Now he tried not to look too hard at Marcy Pendergrass. She wore a black tennis dress to work. She’d crouched to pick up plastic spiders to embed in the webs she had stretched outside his boss’s big glass office. Right across from his cubicle. He saw her panties. The color of toothpaste. Then just pick, she said.

Vampire please.

I knew you’d pick that.

She said it sweetly. But he still thought: then why the fuck did you ask. She slid behind him to string up the tape by his printer. Got on tiptoes. Her hip grazed his arm, shifted the cloth of his dress shirt and gave him ASMR. His neck hair stood up. He hadn’t been touched in three weeks. The warmth coming off her made him self conscious about his posture. Her breath made the cubicle humid. Jesus Christ, he thought, I am turning into a vampire.

You picked vampires because they’re sophisticated, she said.


She’d caught him in the parking lot once. He was in his car with the stereo playing Entry of the Gods into Valhalla. It was the Otto Klemperer instrumental. Operas were ruined by the tenor. They sound like retarded men crying.

She was walking down the concrete ramp with a cardboard tray of low calorie bobas for the sales staff. She had on a gray pleated skirt like a Japanese porno. She saw his face in the open window and he got nervous. By the time she asked what is that he’d been thinking for seconds about how to pronounce Richard Wagner. It’s German opera, he said.

Well that’s surprising about you.

I think it would be surprising about anybody, sitting in a parking garage listening to this.

I wouldn’t have thought you were so cultured.

I’m just waiting for the guy to pull up with my Grey Poupon, he said.

It was a mistake. Kraft-Heinz Grey Poupon was a client. The line of mustards had its own branding team. Sales were strong thanks to an iconic 80’s ad campaign. But millennials lacked awareness of the condiment. Now he was thinking about work. Her hair was tied back, perfect black like the girls in the Mel Gibson Mutiny on the Bounty. He wanted to throw Anthony Hopkins overboard and take her to a beach and eat breadfruit. What was breadfruit. Why is she being nice to me. What else do I not know about you, she said.

Jesus Christ, where to begin, he said. He turned the music down. I wish I could say I have nine secret kids and once killed a man. But I pretty much go to work and floss regularly.

I don’t believe that.

On weekends I go the pond and look at aquatic birds.

She was about to laugh.

Recently a belted kingfisher took up residence. An engaging bird. Lot of personality.

I’m about to turn 41 years old and I pay old prostitutes in Koreatown so someone will touch me, he thought. It got so bad I thought about joining a terror cell. I just want to die but suddenly I want to bury my face in your jet black cunt hairs and burrow into your hot musk like a weevil. I think that’s amazing, she said. That you like birds and the opera.

I’m glad someone’s amazed.

I was an Audobon Society Junior Birdwatcher. And I play the flute.

He was surprised. He’d heard a song coming from her headphones once in the break room. It was about drinking cough syrup.

Maybe we can go look at birds over lunch some time, she said. There’s that sanctuary.

Oh yeah I know it, he said. I would love to. There’s a breeding pair of pied-billed grebes.

I don’t get to do stuff like that much anymore, she said. Since I moved in with my boyfriend.


What about you, he asked. Which one.

I think vampires have too much to worry about, she said. He heard her snip the tape. She grazed him again as she left his cubicle. Zombie life seems more simple.

How’s Chad doing, he asked.

We broke up, she said.

There was a bright light. For a split second everything looked like an x-ray. And he thought: oh God– they did it.

He saw the boss’s glass wall. Marcy come back here, he said. She didn’t hear. Her eyes just said what the fuck. He grabbed her arm and pulled her under the desk and she started to scream but then there was thunder and the building blew in. When the car alarms woke him she was gone.



24 Responses to “Finally, Some Good News (Part 4)”

  1. Kitten Holiday February 19, 2017 at 10:58 am #

    love it

    • Anonymous February 19, 2017 at 12:18 pm #

      Geez from the look of the both of your Twitter accounts, why don’t you fuck already.

      • Atlanta Man February 19, 2017 at 2:12 pm #

        I agree , Kitten Holiday and Delicious Tacos need to have sex, move to Montana and then collaborate on a book and a child. That would be awesome!

      • Kitten Holiday February 19, 2017 at 8:30 pm #

        Only *my* twitter account, thank you. My love interests are exclusively unrequited. Don’t spoil it.

    • Smitten Loliday February 23, 2017 at 5:13 pm #

      Allow me to White Knight for delicioustacos:

      He is pouring his heart and soul into his writing. He is sharing authentic emotion and experiences. He makes his readers laugh and feel less alone in this otherwise cold and unforgiving jewniverse. So please only leave POSITIVE comments here. We don’t need any harsh criticism or negative feedback. We want to be filled with Light and Love and Laughter and Pozitivity and Good Vibes.

      That is all.

      P.S. Kitteh holidays has neiss tittays. Perky. Well-proportioned.

  2. Bonnes Tacos February 19, 2017 at 1:15 pm #

    I think that’s amazing, she said. That you like birds and the opera.

    I’m glad someone’s amazed.

    I was an Audobon Society Junior Birdwatcher. And I play the flute.

    At this point, what can go wrong?

  3. Bonnes Tacos February 19, 2017 at 1:17 pm #

    Finally, Some Good News (Part 5)

    Montana Hideout, Six Months Later.

  4. Atlanta Man February 19, 2017 at 2:07 pm #

    I was really pulling for you to fuck the girl half way through. Also, I remember that Grey ad and all the spoofs. Remember Bugle Boy Jeans?

  5. IMGrody February 19, 2017 at 8:45 pm #


  6. Anonymous February 20, 2017 at 7:15 am #

    I didn’t get it. Wtf happened at the end. Sounds too much like an “it was all just a dream” type of cop-out ending.


    • bowler hat February 25, 2017 at 6:38 am #

      a bomb

  7. Thom Lynch February 20, 2017 at 1:45 pm #

    Beautiful music.

    Hit me up re menaquinone piece. Don’t want it to get too stale. Check ur mail plz.

  8. roger February 21, 2017 at 9:05 pm #

    your writing is Good.

    it tickles my Pickle.

  9. Sorcerygod February 25, 2017 at 8:34 pm #

    Delicious Tacos, it is I, your friend, your fellow lord, SORCERYGOD!

    Haven’t written you in a while. Tsk-tsk, me. I’ve got a new website up and running and I’d like YOU to check it out (other readers can go too, by clicking on my name).

    I want to remind YOU Delicious Tacos that at someday in the near future, I’m going to be a published author, rich (from that or from prostitution, who knows) and I’m planning on plucking your hairy white ass out of brutal L.A. TO GO TO the loveliness that is the Northern Metropolis of Toronto. You’re a good Boston boy, you can handle the winters.

    I have a song for you while you consider (ruminate severely, with a plate of your always-mentioned lean chicken) the move north. It’ll happen soon. Here’s the tune:

  10. why the fuck am I in rehab while Tacos is not in rehab February 28, 2017 at 8:09 pm #

    This website is marked as “pornography” by the Barracuda spam filter at the drug & alcohol rehabilitation facility where I’m currently in treatment.

    I had to log on to a remote server and open up an Internet Explorer browser on the cloud in order to access this website.

    I guess Tacos has posted one too many artificial vagina posts and too many dumbasses have posted with the words “fag,” “fuck,” and “pussy” in the comments.

  11. emily auble March 11, 2017 at 10:20 pm #

    sure, sure yeah. now, its fiction.
    you know what the lies are
    fiction is a good answer for a post-booze life in Los Angeles.
    make that interesting

  12. Anonymous August 5, 2017 at 4:28 pm #

    You *would* post Wagner.


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