SHORT STORIES


 

BADASS JONES SHORT STORY EXCERPTS


 

The Taxman

The Taxman introduces us to Badass paying his taxes and getting an up close and personal experience with the beginning of a Zombie Apocalypse.

“Goddamn Mr. Smith! What the fuck is wrong with yo eyes?” I said. Well that little ol man come at me like a fat kid to a cupcake: mouth all gapin open, eyes all crazy and arms swingin. I had just enough time to reach out and grab that mutha fucka round his throat, but that didn’t stop him. He just kept swingin. It was right bout then that I realized this mutha fucka ain’t right. He got that shit that’s been goin round. So I’m standin there with both hands wrapped round his ol skinny neck, and I looked around and everybody’s just starin at me.
I said, “Goddamn, somebody call the po-lice. Shit.”


 

The Sweet Baby Jesus School of Immaculate Toddlers

Join Badass in an action packed, full-on Zombie confrontation at the Sweet Baby Jesus School of Immaculate Toddlers.

By that time, dead thang number two was back on his feet and coming at me. I jumped back and swung with all I had. Cut that mutha fuckas head clean off. Nastiest God damn thing I ever seen: headless body standin there with some ol thick ass black shit oozin out its neck hole. It started leanin and fell over the railin down to the first floor. I may have misspoke, that mutha fucka’s head was sittin on the floor lookin up at me, and them jaws still workin. Now that was the nastiest thing I ever seen.
I kicked that head down the stairs and looked over the railing. Lookin up at me was a whole herd of dead folks. They was lookin at me like I was the last bread stick in the basket at Olive Garden. Them mutha fuckas was hungry, and they was coming up them stairs.


 

The Backyard BBQ

What do you do when a zombie crashes your backyard BBQ? You call Badass Jones Zombie Hunter. Backyard grillin, bone crunchin, and zombie killin: dark humor at its' best.

Finally I told him, "Alright. Standard fees apply. Two fifty a head, plus expenses. So bout three hundred should cover it. Now if you want me to haul off the carcass, it'll be another two."
Well he dug out a fat roll of bills from his front pocket, peeled off three Franklins, and held them out. "In this economy I'll save myself the two hundred and just toss her over my neighbor's fence," he said as he winked at me.


We've Lost The Walmart

Going to Walmart on payday is bad. Going to Walmart when it's full of zombies is a whole other level of pain. Come along with Badass Jones as he deals with the undead shoppers and a lunatic with a rifle.

I stood there watchin them grumpy old dead men. They moved slow: about the speed they would have if their wives were draggin them through the store pickin up the weekly groceries. As soon as I took a step toward them though, they all three come alive and broke into a sprint. Before I knew it, they were on me. I dropped the one on the right and the one on the left with a couple of shots from the forty-fives, but the one in the middle hit me right in the chest and knocked me on my ass. He landed right on top of me. The forty-fives clattered to the floor, as I grabbed the mutha fucka's head. He was doin his damndest to get his teeth into me, and he was a whole lot stronger then I expected. I wrestled around with him for a minute, and gave his old bald head a quick twist. I heard a muted snap, and his body went limp. His jaws kept chompin as I rolled his dead carcass off of me. I jumped up, dusted myself off, and picked up my pistols. Out of habit, I looked around to see if anyone was watchin. That was pretty fuckin embarrassin: gettin knocked on my ass by an old dead man.