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Night of the Living Zombie
Brock, Age 13, Higginsville, MO

It was a foggy night in London, England December 31st, 1862. It was a depressing sight as two men hunched over an upturned grave in a graveyard that had practically been dug up by an unknown assailant.

The senior of the two men straightened and started lecturing to his young assistant, “If you would look with me at this discoloring of the gravestone you will see that an iron shovel was used to dig up the graves. We can use this data to track down the maker of this implement, therefore lowering the number of… are you listening Mr. Impatient? I’m not saying this for my own benefit.”

The younger of the two stood up as tall as he could, trying to show how he had grown to his predecessor, “I have been working with you since my parents disappeared in the diamond mine, I think I know what I’m doing. So if you don’t mind, Elaborator, would you stop elaborating? What are you doing?” he asked.

The two partners were world renowned detectives that had just been hired to find out who dug up all these bodies and why. The senior of the two, The Elaborator, had a habit of over elaborating for even the simplest things. And his young apprentice Mr. Impatient was very impatient.

The Elaborator went on muttering under his breath, “These hairs must have been left by our perpetrator, and this glowing liquid must have been used to reanimate the corpses, it seems. So at least we know what he was up to in this very depressing place.”

“I thought I asked you to stop elaborating I’m not a child any more”, commented Mr. Impatient, “You can stop treating me like one by not elaborating on every single discovery you make, like how you figured out just yesterday that there are the same number of stairs going up to the apartment as going down from the apartment.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t ever elaborate again…even though it helps us brainstorm”, said the dejected Elaborator, “Let’s track down the factory that produced this mysterious liquid.”

Later that night the two detectives stumbled upon the factory that they had been looking for in the phone book, and they decided to pay the factory a visit. But when they got there the owners were dead in their offices. “To the assembly line”, they both exclaimed at the same time.

When they got to the assembly line they heard a disgruntled moaning coming from the inside. “I’ll go in first,” said The Elaborator. Just as Mr. Impatient followed The Elaborator inside, the doors slammed shut behind them.

At that time they both heard the maniacal laugh of their archenemy Dr. Zombie. “You are just now finding my new lair! I thought your elaborations would speed you up.”

“Ha, told you so!” said The Elaborator as he stared at his partner in anger.

“You can’t stop me, it’s New Year’s Eve and as you surely know by now, my zombies become permanent at the changing of the year.”

“Really”, Interrupted Mr. Impatient, “Without his ramblings The Elaborator was able to hurry up and he slipped the antidote into the zombies and now they are just rotting corpses dirtying your floor.”

“And we both know that without any minions this year you will disintegrate, Dr. Zombie.”, stated The Elaborator from behind, As Dr. Zombie disintegrated slowly with a terrible wail.

“Don’t worry about clean up Mr. Impatient. I’ll help the Bobbies, from the law enforcement department, so you can get on with tonight’s festivities.” The Elaborator said exuberantly, “See you next year.”

“Thank you Elaborator” Exclaimed Mr. Impatient, “See you next year also, meaning tomorrow because it’s New-Year’s-Eve”, laughed Mr. Impatient, “I guess your style of elaborating can rub off.”

 
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