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Dumpster RabbittZ part one - Fiction Serial by Bryan Higby and Ricky D. Snyder

Prologue



The CarLowDen Golf Course sat back in the trees somewhere between Jericho’s Junkyard and Chesterton’s Cemetery. Around these parts we call the cemetery a boneyard. There was a huge real-estate sign dug into the rutty green lawn advertising the land could be bought for a song. Looking at that old potter’s field one would never have guessed that presidents had played on those sprawling, once perfectly manicured lawns. Truman, Eisenhower, even tricky Dick had sunk their balls into the few dozen holes of the old forgotten CarLowDen Golf Course in better days. Some say these same presidents had also sunk their balls at the local gentlemen’s club, The Blue Mansion, which coincidentally is still in full swing.

I only mention this forgotten patch of land buried in the trees of CarLowDen because this story I’d like to relay, and the horror that followed, started right here with that dumpster parked on the grounds. You see it? It’s the one that’s sitting next to that ugly real-estate sign, the dumpster that until just recently hadn’t been there at all. Green, rusted with scars from who knows where, that dumpster stood sentient watching, listening, taking in its new home. Where it came from... well, we’ll get to that directly. Oh, my name’s John Friend by the way. I’m no particular storyteller. Never had that gene, just a sec... um, those cigarettes are like heaven to the senses. American Spirit my favorite. Where was I? Oh, yeah, the dumpster.

See back in the day before this town was plagued by those creepy crawlies, that I’ll soon tell you about, I was a regular Joe. I had worked for the CarLowDen Golf course, kind of as an apprentice greens keeper. Back then I worked with old Ken Kennedy, the fella looked just like that old-timer Kevin McCarthy. You remember that actor from the black and white flick Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Yeah, me and my bud, Randy —we’ll get to Randy in a second —liked to stay up late watching the horror public access station out of Pittsburgh. We’d down a case of beers and giggle at the rubber monster suits that filled the picture frames of those old films. That station out of Pittsburgh was where we saw Kevin McCarthy for the first time. Screaming about giant sea pods, aliens from another world taking over our little blue globe, and hell McCarthy wasn’t half wrong about that. It was Randy who said old Ken Kennedy, the CarLowDen grounds supervisor, was the spitting image of that actor. But that’s neither here nor there. I mention old Ken for one reason and one reason only, because that poor soul was their first victim. Who are they, you might be asking yourself?

Look back at that dumpster, look real close. A shadow is stirring inside. Look out because that dumpster is rabid. Just watch... see it... there, those long mangy ears. The teeth, big buck teeth like a demented beaver, but worse. Those teeth look like something that went into a blender that may have been a beaver, or a rabbit and then got all mixed up and now... oh Christ! Now it’s crawling out of that rusted, dented dumpster. Its eyes, don’t look at its pinkish red eyes. The thing is long and slender, with drooping ears and long broken teeth and looks... well it looks like a rabid Easter bunny...



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