An excerpt from Hungry Hungry Ed by Tyler MacFarlane

I was a zombie fan before zombies were à la mode (...ice cream.... delicious...). I shouldn't complain that they are now. We have The Walking Dead (AMC, not the graphic novels, I linked to the trailer) because of it, or at least it certainly helps. So long as zombies don't go the way of vampires and werewolves in things (yeah things) like Twilight and such we'll be ok. I'm not judging (I am), I haven't read them and they're for a different audience. If they get people to read, it's all good.

Back on track... Tyler MacFarlane. Tyler (I want to talk about Fight club) brings us Hungry Hungry Ed. It is a must read in my opinion. It is also to date the only story we have printed with zombies. It turns out they know how to run a print machine so we may use them again, they're here, our actual printers.

Enjoy the excerpt!

Ed pauses, reconsidering the gravity of the situation at hand. He raises a contemplative finger to his mouth and chews the digit to the bone whilst pondering his surroundings. He stumbles awkwardly about in a circular motion, his tortured mind unburdened by the repetitive action. The thoughts literally ooze out of Ed’s ears. He knows he’s just a player in the game of post-apocalypse life. He knows he was born into a pre-determined set of rules – a system of symbols, semantics, and truth values. Ed continues to think, and surveys what he has to work with. He didn’t pass go, didn’t collect $200 – he ate the monopoly board. Life is as subjective as the hunger pangs in his stomach. Truth value: Ed’s hungry. Semantically speaking, very hungry. That’s my justified, true belief, anyways.

[...]

The doorknob cowers now in the face of Ed and Murph’s morbidity, quivering and bending with each wildly awkward blow. Perspiration, blood, and guts spill out over the cold ceramic floor. Hunger permeates the charred remains of the MacFarlane’s old house. The undead brothers strike with the force of all things unholy. Three terrible, deformed arms beat continuously against the doorknob. The arms beat and beat; they beat themselves into stumps of purpose, of eminent destruction.

My name is Tyler MacFarlane, and I’m from Whitby, Ontario. If I’m not reading, writing, longboarding, or making music, I just might be dead. In which case, I’d chase you down to eat your brains (after having suffered a radioactive metamorphosis, of course). I’m a teacher by trade, but stuck on a long waitlist for a job, so I earn a living in general construction and carpentry. I completed my Honours Bachelor of Arts at the University of Toronto, studying Philosophy and English. After that, I moved to Australia to undergo a Graduate Diploma in Education, and graduated this past December. Somewhere between surfing with penguins, chasing kangaroo, and long roadtrips, I decided to start marketing pieces of my writing. So here I am, a 24-year-old teacher without a classroom, passing time writing stories about cute things like zombies. Thanks for the read!