You may have noticed that most pay phones have
gone away, much like the proverbial dinosaur of this day and age. Guess the world is addicted to cell
phones. I suppose that is easy to
understand. Most people can’t walk and
chew gum at the same time, but cell phones bring another element into the
equation. Show me a person walking and
talking on his cell phone and I will show you a dude about to fall into an open
man hole as he’s walking down the street!
Anyway, the other night I was bored, so I went out for a walk. After I chomped a brain or two from a couple
of security guards who were keeping late night watch over a nearby parking
garage, I saw a pay phone within a few yards east of garage. Wow, I thought I was seeing things for a
moment! Who in the hell uses pay phones
in this day and age of digital wizardry?
So after a long pause, I thought to myself, I’ll bet there is a fortune
of coins in that old pay phone. You
might ask, “What does a zombie need with pay phone change?” Well, Christmas is not too far away and now I
have a girlfriend who expects gifts.
Plus, I need to have something to drop into the charity buckets outside
of the department stores. That way my
conscience is clear when I attack the volunteers in charge of such charity
buckets! So, I swaggered over to the pay
phone and stuck my fingers into the coin return slot and fished around for some
coinage and…. found…. NOTHING!
Damn! Oh well, I figured I would
just move on and maybe I would be able to find another pay phone or some drunk
to roll for his pocket change. Great, my
fat fingers were stuck in this damn phone!
I couldn’t get them out. SON OF A
SWAMP MOTHER!!! Now what was I supposed
to do?? I started to panic. I could have just chewed off the half rotten
appendages, but that is not the way of a zombie of incredible distinction, such
as me. Thinking back to my days as a
first rate martial arts instructor, I started to round house kick this pay
phone in hopes of dislodging my fingers from this sinister machine. First one and then two kicks at a time. Finally, I was kicking the crap out of this
little bitch! The little coin whore had
it coming. One roundhouse kick, right
after another quickly came from my lethal weapon legs. Chuck Norris would be proud, even if I was
still not having any luck of dislodging my fingers from that stupid pay
phone. Just then, I heard a patrol car
screeching down the street. Oh
great. The cop bounced out of his car
like he was getting ready to take down a serial killer. He yelled, “Stop or I’ll have to shoot
you!!” Without even giving me the chance
to explain my situation, Barney Fife Lite shot me with his taser and damn near fried
my giblets into oblivion. Next thing I
knew, the cop hauled me, with the pay phone in-tow, right to the
slammer. Another night of hard luck for
a good zombie; guess I should have stayed home and took another dirt nap.
Thanks for reading Freakin' Dead Jed's blog. I really appreciated it. Freakin' Dead Jed and all related characters are copyright 2012 by Action Avenue Art Studio, Action Avenue Studio and Paul Addison.
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