Those Heels Won't Run, Monseigneur

"Gordon! For Christ's sake! We are in. A. Grave. Yard. A FUCKING GRAVEYARD! Why are we in a graveyard?"

"Darling Tomas, disco is dead. Now, what is more exciting than a romantic walk in a silent, echoing, natural setting?" He looked indulgently at Tomas as he spoke, poking at his tousled brown hair. It sprouted from his head as if he'd shocked himself.

"Gordon you are being ridiculous. I swear to God every year you get weirder and weirder."

"Huh! Where did the love go? Weird? When you met me you thought I was soooooo charming."

"That accent is sheshksy. Mmmm... buy me a drink nummy French man." Gordon slurred his words and slumped over, ass up.

"You do a horrible imitation of me Gordie." Tomas spoke over Gordon's prone form. He poked him lightly in the butt with the toe of his shoe.

"I am not fucking you in a graveyard. No how. No way." Tomas groaned. His hair was much lighter and shorter than Gordon's but infinitely better maintained.

They were both slender men. Tomas had a lean, swimmer's body. He swam at the Y almost every day but wouldn't put so much as a toe in the small lake they had in their backyard. Things were in there. Slimy things. Gordon had more of a heroin chic look. He was skinny to the point of emaciation. He rarely ate and seemed to live on hot coffee and Jolt cola. Tomas' sister often told him they looked like a pair of sticks. Gay sticks.

"A lady waits to be asked." Gordon sneered.

"Gordie, you are out of your mind if you think I am getting naked amongst the dead. It's creepy and really unhygienic. And where the hell did you get the idea anyway? What gay couple do know who does this? And don't count those goth kids. Or Kirk and Spock. Or Harry and Ron. Fanfic is not real. This is a real graveyard with real creepy dead people. It smells, Gordon. Smelly is not sexy. We went through this when you had your little sock fetish."

"Who's my little love monkey? Come on! We don't even have to get naked! Just like unzip and such." Gordon stroked Tomas' chin and Tomas leaned in, vaguely tempted. He'd take a bath afterwards. Or a really really hot shower. A bat flew out of nowhere and he screamed.

"No! No Gordie! That was a bat! Probably a vampire bat! He's coming back to suck my blood."

"As long as he's a Brad Pitt vampire and not a Bela Lugosi vampire I'm totally fine with that. Stop being such a wuss! This is kinky and romantic! You keep saying we're boring and unspontaneous. Let's put the fire back in our relationship." Gordon wiggled his eyebrows, hoping he looked suitably sexy.

"Gordie, you sound like an asshole. We're gonna go home, drink some tea, and watch that cute newscaster on channel 6. Then, if you're good, you may get lucky."

Gordon lunged at Tomas, kissing him hard on the mouth. Tomas pushed him back and he landed near an open grave. Gordon struggled to get up and Tomas nudged him into the grave.

"Great Gordon. This is what you get for being stupid. Just stay in that stinking grave. I am going home. Chip Studly is calling."

Tomas walked away, ignoring Gordon's yells. He was just panicking. Gordon had excellent arm strength. He'd crawl out of there like a hermit crab.

He got a little worried after a minute. Gordon should have gotten out by now. He debated going back. But that would just make him seem weak, wouldn't it? Gordon was always pulling this shit. He thought he could just walk right over Tomas.

He heard a shuffle and looked up, smiling slightly. Anything to avoid a fight.  "Gordie, I'm sorry . . . Gordie?!"

No one was there. He was going back. Gordon could be hurt.

He started walking back, his hands in his pockets. Gordie would be pissed. Shit.

Something jumped from the bushes and tackled him. Tomas screamed.

"You prick! How could you leave me?! I might have gotten eaten by zombies or something!" Gordon held him down and screeched into his face.

"I'm sorry okay?! I was coming back! You just pissed me off. Stop spitting on me."

"I was scared." Gordon leaned his head against Tomas' chest. Tomas held him tightly.

"Sorry hun."

Tomas kissed him lightly on the mouth. Gordon tasted of peppermint and vodka.

He heard a groan and grinned. "I'm still not fucking you in the graveyard."

"Wha?"

He looked up and went completely still.

Some thing stood over them. It reached its arms towards Tomas and he backed up, tossing Gordon off him. They scrambled to their feet and started running. The thing kept coming, slowly but steadily.

"What the hell is that?"

"Tomas, that is a transvestite zombie." Gordon was out of breath. He might look like a runner but he smoked like a chimney.

"The fuck it is!" Tomas wanted to run and run until he got home and found this was all some stupid dream.

"Look at it's outfit! Full length pink prom dress with matching boa and pumps! Perfectly clean! If that zombie had been wearing that outfit when he died, it would look all messed up. The man obviously had an uncontrollable need, a need that even death couldn't cure. Poor bastard. Wish I'd known him when he was alive. I could have recommended him to a good therapist."

"Who the hell cares? He's going to eat us! Just run."

They ran for a minute more until Gordon hunched over, breathing hard. He really needed to quit smoking, Tomas thought to himself.

"No way in hell am I running from a Queen. Even an undead one. Anyway, it's a zombie. They are slow, plodding creatures. Then you add the heels and he's virtually turned into a snail. Look at him!" Gordon stopped running, Tomas swore and looked for a weapon.

The zombie was slowly zigzagging his way towards them. Every minute or so he'd tottle on his heels and pause before continuing. Gordon started laughing at it.

It caught up with them and Gordon got his first good look at the hideous thing. It was an ugly sight. It's face had turned a dark-ish brown in decomposition and pieces seemed to be falling off of it in
chunks. A dark substance leaked from holes in it's head. Not blood but something darker. Gordon shuddered. It reached it's arms out to grab at Gordon. He ducked and gasped at the fetid smell of it. The smell alone was enough to make him pass out.

"Listen here! I have been around scarier Queens than you! Girls so ugly it would melt your leg hair! If I wasn't scared of them, then I certainly am not going to be scared of you! So take your fake feather boa, bad lipstick, ugly shoes, and crawl right back into that stinky grave! Hey.. ow!"

The zombie took a big bite out of Gordon's arm and he yanked it back, almost gagging at the blood that dribbled out. He could see his flesh in the zombie's mouth. He puked and swallowed it.

"You made me swallow my puke! Gross! Bad Queen! Bad bad Queen! Shit!" He started running as the thing leapt at him again. He heard a loud thump and a sickening thwack. He turned around. Tomas had whacked the zombie in the head with a rock. He kept whacking at it long after the thing had ceased to twitch.

"Tomas... you killed it."

Tomas threw down the rock and laughed hysterically.

"The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen." He hunched over, still gripping the rock. Gordon gently pried the rock from his hand. He tossed it into the bushes and laughed. Then he puked on Gordon's shoes.

"You've been saving that up, you bastard." Gordon spoke and then hiccuped. He didn't want to sympathy puke.

"I don't think I wanna watch Chip Studly anymore, Gordie."

"Okay Tomas."

"Will you make me raspberry tea?"

"Yes."

"Can I wear those pajamas you bought me with the little horsies on them?"

"Yeah."

"You won't laugh this time?"

"No."

"Let's take the boa as a trophy. I need a reminder." Tomas grabbed the stained boa from the thing's corpse. It was stuck and he had to yank before he tore it free.

"For God's sake Tomas!"

"I earned it." He gripped the boa in one hand, his eyes were wild.

"Yeah, you did."