ZFL • by Scott W. Baker

“It’s time again for your weekly dose of mayhem!  Chuck Weinstone here with NFL coaching legend and our newest color commentator, Jeff Stevens.  We’re at the Metrodome where the Detroit Shamblers get set to take on the LA Free-Bleeders.  It’ll be gruesome.  It’ll be bloody.  It’s the ZFL on FOX!

“So Jeff, you’re used to a field full of live players.  What brings you over to the ZFL?”

“Chuck, football is football, or so my agent says.  So here I am.”

“And here the Bleeders are, coming off that big win in Houston last week while the Shamblers are looking to snap a three game losing streak.  These teams have a long and bitter rivalry; who do you like in this one, Jeff?”

“Chuck, I don’t think it’s about wins and losses.  As long as the fans satisfy their bloodlust, does it really matter?”

“Spoken like a true fan.”


“And speaking of fans, who are the lucky superfans in tonight’s Donor Seats?”

“It says here that’s Steve Clabo and his wife Mar — Dear God! Those are two big, fat — ”

“Right you are, Jeff.  Two big fans donating their blood to make the ball oh-so irresistible to those zombies players.”

“Irresistible if the zombies like gravy.”

“Zombie football would be nowhere without its fans.”

“Wow.  Just… wow.”

“We all know that zombie players come and go, but it’s the living and breathing handlers up in the rafters that really make a game.  And we have two of the best tonight in the Shambler’s Trey Sogg and LA’s ‘Zaxter’ Zack Baxter.  Both are among the elite, but which man-on-the-wire has the advantage tonight?”

“Do we have to do this?”

“It’s our job, Jeff.”

“Then Sogg.”

“You think so?”

“Think about it, Chuck, Zaxter had that field-level harness snag last week in Houston.  I don’t care how much protective gear the guy’s wearing, getting trapped on the field with twenty-two ravenous zombies is going to make him think twice before rappelling in there.”

“That was uncomfortable to watch, though you’d never know it from the number of hits that clip got on YouTube.  We are assured tonight that the dome’s pulley network is one hundred percent operational and our handlers will be zipping through the air like Spider-Man.”

“And if not, it’s no loss to the gene pool, right Chuck?”

“Now, now, Jeff; this is a family show.”

“I sure hope not.”

“Both teams are on the field; the handlers are in the air; it’s time for dropoff.  Just a reminder, this game is brought to you by Machete Zombie Repellent; ‘If it’s not Machete, you just smell like crap.’  Looks like the Bleeders won the toss.  The ball’s coming out of their chute.  Ouch!  That dropped right on the shoulder of number twenty-seven, Cliff Murdock.”

“Are we really calling the zombies by name?  You don’t think that makes this even more repugnant?”

“Repugnant?  That’s a big word, Jeff.”

“Especially for our viewers.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Right, ZFL fans are at the top of the food chain.  Or was that the players?”

“There is a game going on, Jeff.  Number twenty-seven is still trying to pick up the ball, but with his arm dislocated — ooh, make that amputated by the dropping football, he really can’t get a grip.  That blood makes the ball slippery before it makes it sticky.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Here comes Zaxter swooping in to help.  Remember, handlers can touch their own players but not the ball.  Interesting strategy; Zaxter is using his player’s felled limb to help scoop up the ball.”

“What kind of person thinks to do that?”

“A fantastic handler, Jeff, that’s who.”

“Now your ‘fantastic handler’ is using that arm to fend off number twenty-seven.  Maybe Zaxter smells better than the ball?”

“I can believe it.  That’s one good-smelling man.”

“Remind me to fire that agent.”

“One of the other Bleeders has picked up the ball and is chewing on it.  Looks like number eleven.”

“Chewing.  How original.”

“Zaxter zips back up to the ceiling on his wire.  He seems to have lured the injured player away from the ball so number eleven could pick it up.  Good tactics.”

“I’m just glad to see his harness —  Dear God!”

“Ooh, looks like you spoke too soon, Jeff.  That wire snapped like my prom date’s g-string.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Good thing Zaxter is dressed like he’s ready to disarm a bomb.  Huh… who knew zombie teeth could rip through that?”

“To hell with this.  I quit.  Football is football?  You people are sick.”

“Wait, Jeff, where are you —  Well, folks, after that bite, it looks like the Bleeders are going to have an extra player on the field and no handler.  Will that be an advantage?  We’ll find out after this word from our sponsors.”

For Scott W. Baker, paradise is a Hawaiian shirt, a plate of donuts, a dog at his feet, his family around him, and surrounded by a waddle of penguins (that’s what a group is called called, a waddle… look it up). This marks his third EDF story.

Rate this story:
 average 0 stars • 0 reader(s) rated this

Every Day Fiction