Odd Jobs for the Undead - A Zombie For Hire Story

Chapter 1

From the darkened stoop of Raging Records, I watched Chiquita lead her John by the hand away from her "office" on the corner of Height and Cobble.

The John was typical of the pre-rush hour crowd. Mid, maybe late, 30s. White. Thinning hair. A business suit and a wedding ring. Probably worked in the financial district. Some of Chiquita's John's are a little timid about initiating a business transaction, but this one was brazen. Walked right up to her and opened negotiations.

Chiquita is short, even for a woman, standing a hair taller that five feet. She has long, shiny black hair that spills down her back. Blue eyes and a perky, turned up nose are a big part of her appeal. But Chiquita's money maker is her bubble butt. Even on cold San Francisco nights she wears tight, tiny shorts to make sure prospective clients get a good look at it. All it takes is a shake or two of her cheeks to lure customers away from her competitors on the corner. Chiquita was born and raised in Oakland, but you'd never know it. When she's working, Chiquita puts on a south of the border accent that her customers seem to find more alluring and exotic than her very ordinary Californian non-accent.

"C'mon baby," I heard Chiquita say from across the street. "I got just the place for a big muchacho like you."

"I can not wait to get my hands on that ass," the John told her.

Chiquita escorted him around the corner of a blind alley leading off of Cobble. Before they left the street behind, the John turned away from Chiquita and looked first one way, then the other.

I pushed myself farther into the shadows.

Satisfied that no one was watching, the John followed Chiquita into the alley.

The ladies working the corner call it Bump and Grind Lane. It runs behind shops and restaurants on both sides and only has one entrance, making it very private and perfect for working their trade. Homeless used to make camp back there, but the ladies cut a deal with them. As long as the vagrants keep Bump and Grind clean and empty during "working" hours, the ladies leave behind food, drink and blankets when it gets cold. Which in San Francisco is just about all the time.

As soon as the two of them were out of sight, I left my hiding place and crossed quickly to the alley entrance. Peeking around the wall, I saw that the John had Chiquita pressed up against the wall with his body. His pants were undone and Chiquita's hand has moving inside them. That woman can get a John revved up faster than an old Chevy.

I tousled my hair with my fingers, accidentally pulling out a small clump of scalp. I'd need to eat soon or I'd be dropping body parts all over the city, I thought, tossing the skin and hair to the ground. I cleared my throat a few times, adding to the damage already done to my vocal cords by rot and decay.

I shuffled around the corner of Bump and Grind Lane, my arms held out straight in front of me.

"Unnnghhhhh!" I moaned in my most gravely zombie voice.

Chiquita was doing too good of a job. The John was still panting in her ear.

"UUNNGHHHHH" I moaned louder.

Nothing. The John's eyes were closed and he was breathing heavy.

I was getting pretty close with no reaction yet. Chiquita stole a glance at me, then nodded briefly at the John with a get on with it look.

I slowed down my shuffle and tried again.

"UUUNNNGGHHHHHHHH!"

The John's eyes snapped open and he turned his head my direction. He looked pissed I'd disturbed his morning hand job.

But then he got a good look at me and practically threw himself off of Chiquita.

"Jesus Christ!" he blurted out, his trousers falling to the ground.