Fried Zombie Dee-light! Ghoulish, Ghostly Tales by Susan Abel Sullivan
A fun collection focusing on ghouls, ghosts, and zombies with an advice column featuring dead letters from the lovelorn! You’ll want to steer clear of Bubba’s Cafe after you find out what they serve, and if you teach Group X, you’ll be leery of job postings for Certified Zombie Instructors.
Quiver, quake and chuckle at these quirky tales of the paranormal.
Fried Zombie Dee-light! Ghoulish, Ghostly Tales features pieces previously published in such magazines as Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine and New Myths eZine, a monologue performed on stage with CAST Theater, as well as several never before published short stories, an advice column, and even a song!
Wanted: Certified Zombie Instructor
Fried Zombie Dee-light! (song)
Giving Up the Ghost (advice column)
Zombie Hunting with my Mother
The Girl Next Door (monologue)
Finding the Way Home
Praise for Fried Zombie Dee-lights! Ghoulish, Ghostly Tales
“Delightfully fraught with humor and the macabre, Sullivan’s FRIED ZOMBIE DEE-LIGHT masterfully mixes the mundane with the fantastic in her tales of the strange and ghoulish.”
—Heidi Ruby Miller, author of AMBASADORA and GREENSHIFT; co-editor of MANY GENRES, ONE CRAFT
“Susan Abel Sullivan’s talent shines in FRIED ZOMBIE DEE-LIGHT!—a collection full of wicked humor and quirky charm.”
—Sherry Peters, author of SILENCING YOUR INNER SABOTEUR
EXCERPTS FROM FRIED ZOMBIE DEE-LIGHT! (GHOULISH, GHOSTLY TALES)
From “Wanted: Certified Zombie Instructor”:
Part I: The Ad
Wanted: Certified Zombie Instructor
No phone calls
Apply in person, 10 pm, Friday, Oct. 13
Simon Sylvestri School
(formerly the old Chocolots Factory)
Ambrosia Birbaum just wanted to earn some extra money to put herself through school. So when the college sophomore at Chicago U. saw the ad on Craig’s list, her first thought was: Wow, a hundred dollars a class! She only made $20/class teaching Zumba at SuperFit Gym.
Her second thought was: Certified Zombie Instructor? Surely they meant Zumba instructor. Or maybe they wanted a Zombie Fit instructor? Either way, there had to be a typo in the ad. But at a hundred dollars a class, Ambrosia wasn’t going to dicker with them. Zumba, Zombie—there was no need to call the whole thing off just because someone hadn’t proofed their ad.
From “Zombie Hunting with my Mother”
My mom’s had a lot of time on her hands recently, what with the recession and getting laid off from her job and all, so she’s taken up two new hobbies. Southern cooking. And zombie hunting.
It’s almost midnight and we’re ransacking the tool box in the garage for lethal weapons. The garage is so junky, we can’t even park a car, let alone two cars in it. And the only light we have to work by is from the spill through the door that leads into the kitchen.
My mother hands me a shovel. “Here, you can use this.”
I just stare at her for a moment. I don’t remember seeing shovel listed as an optimal weapon in Zombie Hunting for Dummies.
From “The Girl Next Door”
I live next door to Kenny Gorman, and let me tell ya, the guy can’t keep his holidays straight. But there’s somethin’ else you need to know about Kenny. He’s one of those guys that makes you go, “Ew! Get away from me!” I don’t think he’s ever been out on a date. And everyone calls him the Gory Man. I used to make fun of him, too, but ever since my accident . . . well, let’s just say I see Kenny in a whole different way nowadays.
So, I thought it was kinda sweet when he gave me this Advent Calendar that he’d made in Shop. Only, he confused Advent with the Twelve Days of Christmas. The thing looked like Picasso put it together. And really, Kenny needs to work on his painting skills. The thing was splattered bright red. But very seasonal. B.M.A.–that’s Before My Accident–I would have chunked the thing in the trash and washed my hands about a million times. But things being what they were, I had this insane curiosity to know lay behind the twelve little doors.
From “Finding the Way Home”
My daughter Alyssa warned me that hanging the Stray Cats Welcome sign on the front porch was a mistake.
“Mom, you have to be careful what you send out into the Universe. Every stray cat in the neighborhood is going to find its way home to you.”
And in a way she was right. When Dan retired, we left Atlanta for a Victorian house in a small town, our only pet being Bobo the fat cat. A year later we had three more felines. I took down the sign at that point, but cats kept showing up, needing a good home. Which was all fine and dandy. But what it didn’t explain was the dog.
About the Author:
Susan Abel Sullivan lives in a historic Victorian house with two dogs, way too many cats, and a couple of snakes. When not writing she likes to get her groove on by teaching Zumba Fitness ® classes. She is a graduate of the Odyssey Writing Workshop for speculative fiction. Her short fiction and poetry have appeared in numerous online and print publications, including Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, ASIM Best of Horror: Vol II, Beyond Centauri, New Myths, AlienSkin, and Writers’ Journal. She is the author of Cursed: Wickedly Fun Storiesfrom World Weaver Press and the forthcoming The Haunted Housewives of Allister, AL. She is currently writing a Young Adult novel about the supernaturally challenged.
1 ebook of Fried Zombie Dee-light