Attack of the Fairytale Zombies! by Pj Jones

with shredded feminine products of every size and scent.
    “Damn store never carries super-absorbent,” she cried as she blew her nose into a jumbo winged maxi-pad.
    Barth’s mouth fell open. “Heather?”
    “What the fuck, Barth?” She turned, the rims of her eyes glowing red. “You scared me!”
    At that moment, Barth should have heeded the visual cues, such as the way Heather groaned while holding her stomach or how she snarled at him like a rabid dog. But he was just so excited to see she was no longer a rodent. He pulled her off the floor and scooped her into a hug.
    “You’re not a rat anymore!” he squealed. “This is awesome!”
    “Don’t squeeze me so hard.” She struggled out of his grip. “I’m feeling bloated.”
    Barth reluctantly set Heather down on her feet. “What are you doing here?”
    “I needed some supplies.” She jabbed a finger in his chest. “What’s with all the questions?”
    “You don’t seem well.” Barth took several steps back. He’d never seen Heather act like this, and he wondered if maybe it had anything to do with the tampons, PMS pills and chocolate bars that were scattered all over the aisle. Plus, she had a really big pimple on her chin, which, ironically, kinda looked like a witchy wart—only with an oozing whitehead.
    Heather folded her arms and shot visual eye daggers at Barth, daggers which he hoped weren’t laced with arsenic or ball-shrinking potion.
    “Sure, just point out all my flaws, why don’t you?” she threw up her hands. “Let’s everyone gang up on Heather!”
    “I’m not ganging up on you. I heard you moaning. I thought you were sick,” Barth’s voice quavered as he braced himself for a feminine hormone backlash, “or a zombie.”
    “A zombie!” she shrieked while stomping both feet.
    “Dude.” Wolf elbowed him hard in the ribcage. “Just shut up already.”
    “Ouch!” Barth cried as he rubbed his bruised rib.
    “Serves you right.” Heather broke into a maniacal, wicked, Bride of Chucky, PMSing grin. Then she turned toward Wolf and lunged. “Chocolate marshmallow cookies!” she screamed while snatching the box from his hand.
    Wolf shrank back and whimpered with his tail between his legs.
    Heather turned from them and grabbed several tampons off the floor before heading toward the damsels’ room at the front of the store.
    Barth shook his head while watching Heather hobble away. “Either she’s turning into a zombie or she’s majorly PMSing.”
    “I think she’s a PMS zombie,” Wolf snickered. “Don’t worry, dude,” he added, “this curse will only last five to seven days.”

With Wolf smoking a doobie by his side, Barth sat on the sidewalk in front of the grocery store, watching with a mixture of awe and horror as Heather devoured three tubs of Triple-Chocolate Clunky-Monkey ice cream.
    And he thought zombies were insatiable.
    After letting out a large belch, followed by a wet-sounding, explosive fart, Heather threw the empty container into the gutter and leaned back on her elbows. “Drag told us what happened with the prince.” She arched a brow while holding out one hand. “Do you think I can have my wand back?”
    “Drag?” Barth perked up. “He made it to the wizard? Is he okay?”
    He pulled the wand out of his pocket and set it in her hand, all the while praying she wouldn’t use it against him if she was overcome with a hormone-induced fit of rage.
    “Yeah, Wizard is trying to fix him,” Heather said. “They were able to restore power after all the zombies left to go eat Nessie, so it shouldn’t take long.”
    “Excellent.” Barth couldn’t contain the huge grin that split his features, despite the sudden foul and overpowering odor of Heather’s PMS ice-cream fart. He tried to be subtle as he pinched his nose while scooting away from her. “This is the best news I’ve heard all day,” he spoke through a wheeze.
    “So how are you going to lure the zombies to the lake?” she