My Zombie Boyfriend is told from Edward's perspective. Edward is your typical medical student/necromancer. Kit is his sassy, sarcastic zombie, and Boo is Edward's undead cat. (Side note: Kit really hates the 'Z' word or any reference to stereotypical zombie things like eating brains...this is one of the few times in the book Kit acknowledges zombies exist, never mind that he is one!)
good. “You could drink a little water if your throat is—dear god!”
I just about gave myself whiplash, my double take was so quick. Kit, champion of monsters everywhere, who won’t even let me use the ‘Z’ word, whose email address is undead.canadian33@gmail.com, was dressed up for Halloween. As a stereotypical zombie. Oh, he had done a wonderful job. His makeup was very convincing. He had taken some old, suitably unfashionable clothing—mine, of course—outside and trounced it very thoroughly. “Is that…my raspberry jam?” was the first thing that came out of my mouth as I got a smell of him.
“Mm-hmm,” he said, obviously daring me to say more. “I tried ketchup first, but it smelled funny. This smells much better.”
“I could have gotten you fake blood. …Or real blood, for that matter.”
“Ew. This is chunkier, anyway.”
Was ‘chunky’ a sought-after quality in fake blood? Especially when the ‘chunks’ looked like, well, raspberry seeds? “It’s lovely. Please don’t wear it in the car.” I excused myself to go to the bathroom so I could look at myself in the mirror. Kit, bastion of zombie rights, vanquisher of stereotypes, dressed like…that? I examined each of my pupils, carefully. They were the same size. I didn’t look like I was going crazy, but how could I tell? The dark circles under my eyes were fairly typical for me. They were maybe a little darker since Kit’s arrival, but I didn’t think they were a sign of impending madness. As far as I could tell, the best proof I had that I was still sane was that I wondered about my sanity. After all, a madman doesn’t think he’s mad, right? Right.
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