|Don't Mention the Z Word
Author: DIY Sheep PM
House of the Dead: Now with updates from Greg House's new book: Your Zombie and You.Rated: Fiction K - English - Romance - G. House & J. Wilson - Chapters: 3 - Words: 3,527 - Reviews: 61 - Favs: 29 - Follows: 5 - Updated: 02-09-07 - Published: 10-31-06 - Status: Complete - id: 3223381
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
House was in a good mood. He had spied a couple of Mormons going door to door up the street. Cool, he thought. He loved Mormons, and more importantly so did Wilson. Wilson was very ecumenical when it came to his eating habits. He embraced (and ate) people of all religions.
And Mormons were so handy when he couldn't be bothered going out. They came delivered right to your door and you didn't even have to tip. If only he could find some way of getting them to bring a pizza with them it would be perfect. Pizza boys were all very well, but they had got wise and stopped delivering after a while and just like a Zombie, a man needed his sustenance.
But House's high spirits were crushed when he opened the door of his flat. He surveyed the wreckage. There were half gnawed books all over the place. Oh shit. Wilson had got free. God that man could chew through titanium.
Please let him still be here, he thought. I just bought Mrs Beluski in 221A a new cat and it had cost a fortune. Apparently that mangy looking thing was, sorry - had been, some sort of rare Russian breed.
It was all Cuddy's fault so he firmly blamed her. She'd made House leave him at home after he'd washed Wilson by pushing him into the hospital swimming pool and throwing a packet of laundry detergent in after him. He'd needed it. He'd been getting smelly and Nurse Brenda had been complaining about the rotting meat smell. It wasn't his fault. Who knew zombies were so fast in water? You wouldn't have guessed it from the way they move on land.
But that, and the aqua aerobics class going on down the shallow end, had perked Wilson right up. Which was good because House had been a bit worried about him lately. He just hadn't seemed his usual brain loving happy self.
Although, he mused, Cuddy's sudden Zombie intolerance could have been set off by the mysterious disappearance of Doctor Whitner. And it actually wasn't all that mysterious. He had come back from the lab one day to find Wilson happily playing in his office with a motorized wheelchair wheel.
Still it wasn't all bad: at least he'd got his parking spot back. I told you not to mess with me and my Zombie: but did you listen lady? Noooo!
He picked up the baseball bat he kept by the door and listened carefully. He'd left Wilson securely chained with an entire leg of lamb and the whole Nightmare of Elm Street series. But you know Zombies. It was always 'brains', 'brains' and more 'brains'.
Then he heard a small groan coming from the kitchen. Bingo! One found Zombie and hopefully Mr Biggles The Second was still walking the earth.
"Aww Jesus Wilson, have you been trying to eat the kitchen table again? You know it gives you indigestion." he started as he rounded the couch. But then he stopped when he spied the pitiful little chewed up mess on the floor and Wilson sitting next to it looking very pleased with himself, little bits of fluff sticking out of his mouth.
"Oh God Wilson! What have you done?"
"Brains," said Wilson happily.
But House just frowned. "You know, for a dead guy you can be very dense sometimes. We discussed this didn't we?"
"Brains?" said Wilson hopefully.
"No Wilson. This time you have gone too far," he said. "I'm pissed Wilson. Very very annoyed. Get that through your decomposing skull."
Wilson seemed to realise he had done something wrong and lurched over to hide under the piano. He groaned again.
"It's your own fault if you feel ill," he shot over at him. Wilson peered mournfully at him over the top of the keyboard.
House looked down at the corpse at his feet. He picked it up, cradled it in his hands and regarded it sorrowfully.
The bastard had eaten his favourite gray beanie.
That little 'tea cosy thing for the head' that House wears in Needle in a Haystack is called a beanie in Australia, a knit/stocking cap in America and a touque in Canada. Any suggestion for Great Britain very much appreciated: hang on – the Brits have been weighing in and it's beanie there too apparently. And Sam says that in Germany it is called a warmhaltehaube (which presumably means small furry warm hat).