S.G. Browne

(This is a feature from Undead Anonymous where Andy, the main protagonist of Breathers, answers your questions.)

Blysse Burnerchic from Black Rock City, NV asks:

When you’re dining out with a zombie and their ear falls off in their soup, is it considered proper etiquette to point it out to them?

Dining etiquette is always a touchy subject when it comes to the undead.

What’s an appropriate finger food?  How do you handle a dinner guest with leaky orifices?  And should you serve a Cabernet or a Pinot Noir with your mother’s broiled ribs?

These dilemmas aside, when it comes to spontaneous dismemberment at the dinner table, it can be quite embarrassing for both parties.  No one wants to be the bearer of bad news.  But much the same way it’s polite to let someone know they have spinach stuck between their teeth or a glob of mayonnaise on the corner of their mouth, it’s always proper to let someone know when their ear has fallen into their soup.  Unless of course you’re out at a five star restaurant and looking for a good lawsuit.

Thanks for the question.

Come for the pub crawl, stay for the brains…

All you zombies, stagger on down to Santana Row in San Jose for a pub crawl and Book Signing Event to help support the rights of reanimated corpses everywhere:

5:00-5:30pm Meet at Straits in Santana Row

6:00pm Stagger to El Jardin in Santana Row (outdoor restaurant at end)

6:30pm Stagger to the Giant Chess Game for a quick Zombies vs Breathers chess match

7:00pm Finish at Borders Santana Row where S.G. Browne will be signing and reading from his dark comedy Breathers: A Zombie’s Lament

“A terrific comedy about the perils and joys of life beyond death…A zombie comedy with brains.”
—Kirkus Reviews

BECAUSE ZOMBIES ARE PEOPLE, TOO

(Breathers and zombies welcome)

(This view on zombie ‘life’ brought to you by Andy.)

It’s not easy being a zombie.

In addition to post-reanimation stress and spontaneous dismemberment, the undead have a host of unique challenges to contend with:

Putrefaction.
Discrimination.
Fraternity pledge scavenger hunts.

We can fight off putrefaction with regular formaldehyde fixes.  We can laugh in the face of a society that no longer considers us human.  We can run away from fraternity pledges or even bite them.  (Which doesn’t turn them into zombies, by the way.  That’s just more Hollywood propaganda.  But it can lead to a nasty infection.)

We can do all of this and more.  But none of it matters if we don’t maintain our personal hygiene.  All it takes is one fly to lay its eggs on an open, festering wound and before you can say George Romero, you’ve got a full-blown maggot infestation.

When a corpse is fresh, it tends to draw flies to it like Republicans to a Democrat sex scandal.  Fortunately, since zombies mimic the living in their movements, flies don’t get a chance to lay their eggs on the various points of entry: eyes, mouth, genitalia.  But exposed flesh wounds are open invitations for a maggot smorgasbord.  Once the eggs have hatched, the maggots eventually eat their way under the skin, feasting on subcutaneous fat.  As I’ve mentioned before, if you get close enough to an infested corpse, you can hear the maggots feeding.  It sounds like Rice Krispies.
There’s nothing more disheartening than coming back from the dead and avoiding random dismemberment and staving off the effects of decomposition, only to let careless hygiene turn you into a walking Rice Krispies treat.  Whereas the average embalmed zombie can expect an undeath expectancy of anywhere from three to seven years depending on the climate, once you’re infested with maggots, you can figure on lasting about as long as a vow of fidelity at a Playboy Bunny orgy.

(Next entry:  N is for Naomi)

(This is a feature from Undead Anonymous where Andy, the main protagonist of Breathers, answers your questions.)

Dane Zomboy Patrick from the cyber land of Yahoo! asks:

Do you guys ever have any problems with parts falling off? My left arm keeps dropping to the ground?

Yes Dane, parts falling off is a common problem among zombies and a constant source of embarrassment and shame.  Imagine the humiliation of impotence, only instead of not being able to become physically aroused, your uncooperative member falls off.

While I personally haven’t suffered the indignity of spontaneous dismemberment, as it’s called in the community, I know a number of zombies who have had to seek counseling to deal with the emotional fallout.  And if that’s not bad enough, fraternities often send their pledges on scavenger hunts for zombie appendages.

As for the problem with your arm, I suggest suturing it in place or even using a staple gun.  But if the flesh at the point of attachment has started to turn and the sutures just keep tearing out, then you might want to try some duct tape.

Thanks for the question…

Back in the spring of 2002, I was working on the re-writes of my second and third novels for submission to a couple of small press publishers in the horror community.  Each of the publishers had expressed enthusiastic interest for my novels and it looked like, after more than a decade of writing with the hopes of become a published novelist, I was finally going to realize my dreams.

But then a funny thing happened.  I started to hate what I was writing.

Both novels were of the supernatural horror variety, influenced by a steady diet of King, Straub, Koontz, and McCammon that I’d fed on as a teenager and young adult.  And although I was proud of both novels, the more time I spent re-writing them, the more I realized that I was growing to hate them.

What had once been fun had now become tedious, painful work.

So after struggling with the rewrites for several months, I told the two small presses that I wouldn’t be submitting the manuscripts and I kissed my opportunity to become a published novelist goodbye.

Then I stopped writing.

For the next year and a half I played a lot of golf and spent more time reading and playing with my dog.  I wrote a best man’s speech based on Hamlet (“To wed or not to wed, that is the question…”) and a 40th birthday poem for my wife based on The Raven (“Once upon a birthday dreary…”), but that was about it.

Sometime in the middle of all of this, I read Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk.

Although I’d seen Fight Club (one of my favorite all time films), I’d never read the novel or any of Palahniuk’s other books.  But for some reason, this novel resonated with me on a level I hadn’t previously experienced.  And when I was done, I had an “a-ha” moment.

While my three novels and four dozen short stories had all predominantly been influenced by my love of horror, I’d written a few short stories that were dark comedy with a supernatural edge to them.  But I’d never thought about writing anything other than straight horror novels.

Lullaby changed all that.

After finishing Lullaby, I began to think about turning a short story of mine into a full-length novel.  The story, “A Zombie’s Lament,” dealt with a group of zombies who attend Undead Anonymous meetings and yearn for civil rights.  About a year later, I wrote the opening scene for Breathers.

(Next entry:  M is for Maggots)