At 7:30 in the morning, Arturo wakes up to the beautiful sunshine peeking through the window of the warden’s office in the New Mexico State Penitentiary.
Arturo wastes no time. By 8 o’clock he’s up and doing his rounds. He takes the prisoner wagon out for a spin to smash apart zombies. He always gives the ladie zombies a little tap, just to knock them down. Then he’ll smash their faces in with a sledgehammer. Arturo used to be very sloppy about this. He would kill them 9 times out of ten, either with the van or with his hammer. He’s gotten better now. Now he can pin them under his tires, pop off the bottom jaw, and scrape out their teeth.
9:00. Arturo throws his haul into an open cell. He doesn’t put them together without precautions. Sometimes they claw or eat at each other. He doesn’t want them anymore damaged than they have to be. This one’s a pretty little thing, skin burned from the sun but still feisty. She still has a wallet on her: Jaclyn Arnett. What a doll. Smells like piss, though.
9:30. Arturo eats. He never has breakfast too early. It gives him indigestion.
Sometimes the jaw can be replaced. Every day at around 10:00 or so, Arturo saunters over to cell B 12 to stick his cock in Shirley’s toothless mouth. He waters her mouth down first, of course. Zombie tongues are so dry and papery, after all. Arturo pulls on her hair while she desperately tries to eat his cock. Arturo feels powerful. He long since cut off and bandaged up her limbs. No teeth. No nails. He has complete control over her. But she’s getting old. Time to break the new girl in. But later.
Arturo plays basketball until noon.
He eats again.
By 1:00, he makes the rounds, looking over his filled cells and his empty ones, trying to see what new masterpiece to come up with. He paces by Robert and stops. Robert was a cellmate of his once. He turned into a zombie and Arturo crushed his throat:
“Hey Bobby!” he always says. “Knock knock!”
“Ackle-clok?” Robert always responds.
“Abyssinia behind bars one of these days!” Arturo always gets a kick out of that one.
He heads to the fetish hall next. It’s unnatural, he admits, but Arturo likes to set his zombies up in certain fixed positions. In one of the cells, he has a stripped man tied to an old zombie dog. Every time the zombie lurches toward Arturo, trying desperately to tear a bite out of him, it looks like the zombie’s grinding up against the dog. Arturo jerks off to the scene. His sperm gets all over the dog’s rotten snout. Arturo’s dick twitches like a braindead corpse. He zips up his fly and heads back to his room to do push-ups and read a book.
Sometimes Arturo takes a a nap at around 2:00 or 3:00. Today, he is waken up by the sounds of moaning. Zombies were at his window. First a handful, but then he can see hundreds coming toward the building. He runs out to see if his prizes had escaped. They were all there, but he was being invaded. He checks Jaclyn’s cage nearby. The zombies are trying to get into her cell. It’s like they’re drawn to her for some reason.
4:30. Arturo is crawling about the prison. His mouth is dry and his only remaining arm twitches desperately.