STERiEAUX Undead Ch. 4

Chapter Three



These days,
Cedric the Wise Himalayan meows meditatively, waxing pious almost solely to four-feet-long mutant cockroaches. There isn’t much else left on the planet…maybe a zombie or two still stumbling around…but mostly just cockroaches.

Hey, at least they’re zenned-out four-foot-long mutant cockroaches…



As any wandering spirit will tell you,
the phenomenon of roaming the earth without a body isn’t an easy one to get accustomed to.

Grok’s hand passed through the charred stick.

Grok grunted forcefully.


All work and no play makes Rok a dull Bott. He had been blazing the trail, searching for E for a long time. RokBott needed to blow off some steam, so to speak. He pulled out his grenade launcher and blew up three peaks in the Rocky Mountains.

“Lights out…guerilla radio…” – Rage Against the Machine


What’s that sound???


Back at the cave,
Urogk had been overtaken by basic animal instinct.

The barbaric grunts and groans bellowing from deep inside Grok’s chest only made her more passionate in her attempts to revive the ancient man.

She mounted him.


It sounds like music…
…and it smells like marijuana…
I had completely forgotten about marijuana…



Cedric the Wise opened his eyes and saw that the assembly was very much at peace.

He withdrew from the gathering to his quiet place, to his little rug, to the rug that Dr. Sterieaux had given him when he was just a kitten. He looked out from his mountain top and enjoyed a time of inner peace.

A single whisker picked up on a vibration from some distant corner of the cosmos.


“Shoot to Thrill” – AC/DC

RokBott’s navigational software showed a single structure, a brick wall, standing about ten miles out from what was once downtown Portland. His barometric software told him that there was a slight southwesterly wind.

He set his photon torpedo blaster to obliterate.
RokBott took aim.


A sudden gust of wind picked up and the plastic bag flew away along with it.
It blew away in a south, southwesterly direction, as a matter of fact.

Grok chased the flying, land lubing jelly.

His steps were falling lighter than before, thought the ancient man.
He almost felt as if he were floating.
And he wasn’t in pain anymore…

The entirety of this sudden change in reality began to sink in.


Music, marijuana and now…fireworks??
For some reason, the word “Lolapalooza” just popped into my thick zombie brain.


Cedric the Wise breathed deeply.
He purred, content.
His golden mane puffed majestic on the wind.
He closed his emerald eyes again and sensed a journeying whisp drawing nearer.


Urogk could sense that Grok seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.
She rode him with more determination.


Too late to take it back, RokBott’s infrared life-seeking software alerted him of the fact that there was a warm body resting on the other side of that brick wall ten miles away.

Someone is still alive!
Maybe they know where to get some E.

RokBott1Oo had to beat that torpedo!

“Final Countdown” – Europe


As he chased the grocery bag, a flaming streak of fire whizzed across Grok’s line of vision and headed towards a brick wall, way off in the distant horizon.

The plastic jellyfish seemed to be floating that way, too.

Grok grunted and pursued.


I thought I was dead for real this time.


STERiEAUX Undead Ch. 3

Chapter Two



“…and there were creatures who received no transmissions…
…and there were other beings yet who took no form…”

Cedric the Wise’s face exuded tranquility.


Urogk felt bad.

Grok was a good man, after all. He just had NO game when it came to the ladies.
She decided to go apologize for kneeing the poor fellow in the testicles.

What she found in Grok’s cave when she returned was…



I’m not sure if rational thoughts like these would continue on right now if fresh meat were to enter the equation. I might be right back into the red rage, and who knows for how long.

Fresh flesh does sound really, really good right now…sigh…with a little barbeque sauce…alas…


Grok was bare-ass naked…and the color of moss.

He lay motionless in the middle of the cave, his eyes bloodshot and glazed over. He was grunting and groaning erratically.

Urogk hadn’t known that the mushroom she had shoved down the ancient man’s throat had been the most powerful psychotropic, hallucinogenic, time-and-space-bending substance ever to be ingested.



RokBott was immediately impressed with the sheer totalness of earth’s destruction.
He landed his spacecraft, which still contained the lifeless components of Rave.

“Out here in the perimeter there are no stars…out here we as stone… immaculate.” – The Doors


Urogk knelt beside the ancient man, worried. Grok was clearly in pain. She stroked his head, gently untangled the matted mess that was his hair and felt compassion swell up in her heart…


She couldn’t help but stare at Grok’s quite substantial girth, swollen as it was.
Urogk was overcome with a strange, sudden impulse.


“That we may all become creatures of true reflection.”

Cedric chose to stay behind when a new order of planet Earth’s most wealthy societies chose to evacuate.

He stayed behind in order to disperse wisdom and salutations of peace to whoever may be left on earth…to whoever may be seeking…
99% of the planet was left on earth at that time…

“That we may all reflect the true creation, the true reality.”


“The world has turned and left me here…” – =w=

Rok’s navigational software told him that he had landed somewhere in southern Nevada. He made a mad dash to Las Vegas.

All that stood there was a stop sign.
Every other thing that had composed the city of Las Vegas was now simply lost for the ages.

No E. No nothing.


I remember the last woman I loved. Her name had been Shoshanna. I remember burning my toe on the kerosene heater in the throws of passion. We had been huddled up in the attic for weeks, just trying to stay warm, trying to stay alive.

I still remember her scent, like apricots washed in cotton. I can still hear her unique little laugh too, like a sparrow chirping happily. So yes, I’m gonna say that we had been in love.


While Grok’s mental reality spiraled down through the fabric of space and time, his manhood was also being sucked down, and quite literally so.

Urogk had never tried this particular method of pleasing a man before, no one ever had at that point, as a matter of fact.

It just seemed like the right thing to do.


Shoshanna contracted the zombie virus soon after, on the same day that we made love for what became our last time. Life has a flare for tragic contrasts.

We had been arguing about something. Now, I can’t remember what. At the time, it seemed really important, very heated. I miss getting irrationally angry about trite, unimportant bullshit. Now, I just get blood-crazed at the sight of any living thing…


“Earth must have been so cool back in the day! They had entire cities built around parties. We should totally go there someday, like a field trip. Hit up Vegas and Amsterdam, Bangkok and Paris…too bad there’s not much there anymore. It’s still gotta be pretty dope!”

“Cuz we pimpin all over the wo-orld!” – Ludacris

RaveBott always dreamed of one day seeing earth.


The details of time/space travel are always up for speculation amongst those who’ve never traversed the continuum before themselves. (*)

In this story, Grok’s soul falls through the wormhole. His physical body remains in the cave, where his unconscious body has unknowingly rounded third and seems to be getting the wave in to steal Urogk’s home plate…so to speak…

While he’s tripping, he’s the time-travelling specter of an ancient cave dweller.
Grok gets spit out of the wormhole and the world is basically dead.



We had been hiding in her house for several weeks, back when there was still hope that the whole “zombie” thing would blow over, hope that “normal” life would return one day.

She stormed out of the house. I can’t remember if I tried to stop her. I hope I did. The stained-glass window in the door shattered when she slammed it shut. That’s probably what attracted the attention of the zombies.

She was blood-crazed, herself, when she came back.


Grok was shocked at what he saw stretched out before him. The earth was scorched. There wasn’t much of anything to be seen.

Trash and ash blew over the land.

He bent down to pick up a plastic grocery bag that was blowing by.
His hand passed through it.


I miss you, Shoshanna.


RokBott missed RaveBott too.
He pressed on.

His navigational software told him that California no longer existed, so he decided to head north.

“On a dark, desert highway…cool breeze in my hair…” – The Eagles

Grok grunted.

Grok was mystified by the plastic grocery bag that he couldn’t catch.
He thought that is was a sort of land-dwelling jellyfish or something.
Whatever it was, it was slippery and highly evasive.

Grok saw a charred stick.
The hunt was on.


A question of purpose keeps nagging at me.

I spend most of my time these days straining my mostly-rotten brain for shreds of memories from a life lived so very long ago, so very dead and gone now, and for what?
If and when memories do resurface, they only end up reminding me of how badly things have gone ever since this fucked up disease has plagued this long-forsaken earth.

What is there possibly left for me to live for?
Why can’t I die?


Continue Reading…

Don’t Vote For President

Don’t vote for President. Vote for city council. Don’t vote for Vice President. Vote for school board commitees. Don’t vote for Barack Obama. Vote for someone you’ve held an actual discussion with…maybe had a drink or two with. Don’t vote for Mitt Romney. Vote for someone who actually needs the money paid to them for holding their political office. Don’t vote for Joe Biden. Vote for county Sheriff. Don’t vote for Paul Ryan. Vote for your Mayor. Don’t vote for governmental policies. Vote for your community’s well-being. Don’t vote for party lines. Vote for family time. Don’t vote for propaganda. Vote for honest discussion. Don’t base decisions on gallup poles. Base decisions on what really matters the most to you. Don’t watch the party conventions. Watch what’s going on that nobody wants to mention. Don’t buy into their empty promises of reforming D.C.. Buy into your own ability to positively impact the world around you. Don’t vote for double talk. Vote for truth. Don’t vote for “big money.” Vote for the “little people.” Don’t vote for issues that never, ever get true resolution i.e. abortion, tax cuts. Vote for real issues that actually need immediate resolution i.e. our lousy economy, our dissolving civil rights. Don’t vote just to have the Electoral College nullify your voice. Vote if it’s a vote that will be heard, appreciated, counted and possibly be the one that makes the difference. Don’t vote for President, unless you vote “none of the above.”

The logic behind this is in the development of the roots of our system. First, we vote in, or “plant,” good healthy roots as our representation. Then we rely on those good roots to grow a healthy tree. We really need to know the people we put into all of these other offices. Know something about your district’s Representative, know as much as possible. Know how your state’s Senators are voting in Washington. Vote accordingly. Once the roots are strong, then we put the power into their hands by not voting individually for President. By not voting for President, or better yet, voting “none of the above,” we force the House of Representatives into voting in a President based on the convictions of the people that the House represents, “we the people.” The Senate would follow suit and vote in a Vice President. This way of voting in a new President/Vice President would bypass a lot of the influences of emotion-based media propaganda, big money lobbyists, partisan politics, etc. More importantly, it would take the vote out of the hands of the Electoral College and put it into the hands of those who actually have the insight and capacity for making a choice of this magnitude and who actually represent us.

There are 435 seats, each with an individual vote in the House. There are 270 votes split into 50 shares in the Electoral College…better odds with the House.

This is where all of “we the people” must show up and flood our Representative’s/Senator’s offices with telephone calls, letters, personal visits with our insights into the qualities of a person we really want as the figurehead of our nation. Yes, this would be a long and arduous process…as this serious of a matter truly is. Some countries have military coups EVERY TIME power switches hands, and while our system was designed to handle that change over peacefully, we have gotten TOO passive about how and from whom/to whom that power gets dispursed. I think for such a great position as “President of the United States of America/Commander in Chief” it isn’t unreasonable for this process to take considerably more time than it takes for a candidate’s name/face to become common household knowledge. We need healthy, productive, intimate discussions with these people. We need to care more about their voting history, their campaign contributors, their actual community involvement. If we are all active in our communities, these names would become common knowledge anyways, because their reputations as leaders would be known and and admired. Who are these people we vote for now? We “figure it out” as we watch a few choreographed and televised political debates on TV’s and internet streams from miles and miles away. We need mothers telling their Reps/Senators what’s up, what needs changed, what’s good for their family’s sake. We need professionals of all types chiming in. We need to put the pressure on our Representatives to represent us with their educated, informed vote for a qualified leader of this nation.

If these elected officials would then fail to work hard for our sake and to continue voting for the interests of big money lobbyists and partisan politics, continuing to ignore all of us “little people,” then “we the people” would see how corrupt our system has truly become and should then act accordingly in dismantling said system and starting over.

At least we’d have a good starting point…by then, we’d probably know where most of these “representatives” live.

“Every generation should have a new revolution.” – Thomas Jefferson

I’m Not Free


I’m not free, I’ve simply wandered aimlessly;
An antithesis of liberty, it seems.
Sojourned on my journey, reserving energy,
Now idle, I lay low lest I be seen.

I’m not free, I’ve simply bluffed reality;
An antiquated philosophy…to be.
Phantasmal silhouettes of insatiability,
Now mild, meditating on this dream.

I’m not free, I’ve simply fled from inevitability;
An android of opportunity and need.
Duality approved and sanctioned amiably,
Meanwhile, singularity alludes to a key.

I’m not free, I’ve simply lived individually;
An anarchy manifest, truly.
Undeterred by systematic hive mentality
This child realizes now that none are free.

I’m not free, I’ve simply waxed poetically;
An ancient soliloquey, that’s me.
Awash by the tide of my own discrepancies,
Even so, I’ll whisper sweet nothings to the trees.

Exploding Doves

Not the symptom but the signal
Exploding doves, imploding respect…
Not the martyrdom, the ephemeral
Erupting cause, impacting effect…
Not the sight but the seeing
Entrancing time, imploring conviction…
Not the act but the being
Envisioning love, immortal dimension…