Zombies of Clay
A parody
With Apologies to James Joyce
By
Guy Antibes
Zombies of Clay
A Parody
With Apologies to James Joyce
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Copyright 2012 by Guy Antibes
All rights reserved. No part of this e-book may be reproduced without the permission of the author.
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This is a work of fiction. The story is a parody of the short story Clay by James Joyce, which is in the public domain. The locations, places and characters in Joyce's story have been modified, changed and added to in order to create a new work, which is copyrighted. An unadulterated version of Clay is at the back of the parody.
Introduction
A number of zombie parodies have entered the readers' marketplace in the last few years. As a result of a challenge on the Liberty Hall Writers Group website, I took the original story of James Joyce's Clay and zombie-fied it. Although the gist of the story remains, it isn't as quite tenderhearted (pun intended) as the original. The story is not for the squeamish. It is written more from the point of view from the zombie community and has graphic elements that might not be suitable for polite company.
For your reference, I have included the original story at the end. You might find it more interesting to read the original story first and then plunge into the zombie version. It's entirely up to you. The story is rather short and, as it turns out, really does take place on All Hallow's Eve.
Zombies of Clay
A Parody
With apologies to James Joyce's Clay
By Guy Antibes
THE matron had given her leave to go out as soon as the women's blood-tea was over and Maria looked forward to her evening with Joe's family on All Hallow's Eve. The kitchen was spick and span: the cook said you could see yourself in the big copper boilers. Maria would like to see the cook in a boiler. Yummm, she thought to herself. The fire was nice and bright and on one of the side-tables were four very big thumbsticks. These thumbsticks seemed uncut; but if you went closer you would see that they had been cut into long thick even slices on the bone and were ready to be handed round at blood-tea. Maria had cut them herself. She was very careful with her cutting, as she could lend part of her own flesh to the thumbsticks without realizing it.
Maria was a very, very small person indeed but she had a very long nose and a very long chin, although both had become a bit shorter in the last few years. She had to have a stern talk with the butler about controlling the mice. She sometimes talked through a little nose, which always made the ladies laugh: "Yes, my dear," and "No, my dear." She was always sent for when the women quarreled over the body parts left in the tubs and always succeeded in finding a tasty piece for her superiors. One day the matron had said to her:
"Maria, you are a veritable piece-maker!"
And the sub-matron and two of the Brood ladies had heard the compliment. And Ginger Mooney was always saying what she wouldn't do to every dummy who had made the mistake of soliciting at the door, if it wasn't for Maria. Everyone was so fond of Maria. Maria did such a good job of preparing such tasty bits for the members.
The women would have their blood-tea at six o'clock and she would be able to get away before seven. From Ballsbridge to the Pillar, twenty minutes; from the Pillar to Drumcondra, twenty minutes; and twenty minutes to locate her treasures. She would be there before eight for the All Hallow's Eve party. She took out her purse with the silver knives and read again the words A Pressed Hand from Belfast. She was very fond of that purse because Joe had brought it to her five years before when he and Alphy had gone to Belfast on a Whit-Monday trip. In the purse were two golden crowns and some nice incisors. She would have five eyeteeth clear after just a few more forays. What a nice evening they would have, all the children screaming! Only she hoped that Joe wouldn't come in brain drunk. He was so different when he had cracked open a brain case, and arrived engorged from an entire brain. He thought it would help his sloughing. Silly Joe!
Often he had wanted her to go and live with them--but she would have felt herself in the way (though Joe's wife was ever so nice, he did keep her fresh in the icebox) and she had become accustomed to the taste of the local inhabitants. Joe was a good fellow. She had nursed him and Alphy too; and Joe used often say:
"Mamma is mamma but Maria lets me lick her." Well, it did keep the old woman's weight off.
After the break-up at home the boys had got her that position in the Dublin by Lamplight morgue, and she liked it. She used to have such a bad opinion of Protestants but now she thought they were very nice people, a little bland and tough, but still very nice people if you used the right spices. Then she had her parts in the conservatory and she liked looking after them. She had lovely arms and torsoes and, whenever anyone came to visit her, she always gave the visitor one or two bits before cutting them up for planting in the conservatory. There was one thing she didn't like and that was the entrails on the walks; The members would start to drift out there and get down on the hands and knees and start on the offal. But the matron was such a nice person to deal with, so genteel. She would never stoop. She had a little articulated shovel to get her share.
When the cook told her everything was ready she went into the women's room and began to pull the big bell. In a few minutes the women began to come in by twos and threes, wiping steaming hands on their petticoats, they couldn’t help taking a bite or two, then they would take red steaming arms from the big copper pots. They settled down before huge mugs. Those were harvested from the skulls of homeless souls underneath the bridge which the cook filled up with hot blood, already mixed with milk and sugar in huge tin cans. Maria superintended the distribution of the thumbsticks and saw that every woman got her four slices or one stick according to their eating style. There was a great deal of laughing and joking during the meal. Lizzie Fleming said Maria was sure to get the ring finger and, though Fleming had said that for so many Hollowed Eyes, Maria had to laugh and say she didn't want the ring finger of a man either; she wanted another part. Then she laughed, slurping the grey-green eyes that sparkled with cracked kidney stone sauce and the tip of a nose and the tip of a chin. Then Ginger Mooney lifted her mug of blood-tea and proposed Maria's continued wholeness while all the other women sipped through straws from their mugs on the table, and said she was sorry she hadn't a sup of the porter recently harvested from the front door. And Maria laughed again till the tip of the nose and the tip of the chin were down her throat. She was working on the minute body of a small child. She nearly shook itself asunder because she knew that Mooney liked a woman who could rend children, of course, she had the notions of a common zombie.
But wasn't Maria glad when the women had finished their tea and the cook had cleared away the leavings of that dummy of a porter. She had begun to clear away what arm bones still contained marrow! She went into her little bedroom and, remembering that the next morning was a mass gathering, she munched on a hand, changing the alarm from seven to six. Then she took off her working skirt and her house-boots and laid her best skirt out on the bed and her tiny dress-boots beside the foot of the bed. She changed her blouse too and, as she stood before the mirror, she thought of how she used to dress for mass gatherings on Sunday morning when she was a younger; and she looked with quaint affection at the diminutive body which she had so often adorned. In spite of its years she found it a nice tidy little body. She had all of her fingers and most of her toes. Her eyes--well she had replaced her eyes a few times.
When she got outside the streets were shining with rain and she was glad of her old brown waterproof. It wasn’t good form to slough off skin i
n the rain. The tram was full and she had dreaded she would have to satisfy herself with a stool left at the end of the car, but with all the people she was able to perform a modest harvest. She popped a few toes in her mouth hoping she had had a few more. She arranged in her mind all she was going to do and thought how much better it was to be independent and to have more than your own fingers in your pocket. She hoped they would have a nice evening. She was sure they would but she could not help thinking what a pity it was Alphy and Joe were not speaking. Alphy’s tongue was falling out now but when they were boys together they used to be able to get such exquisite parts, not now: but such was life.
She got out of her tram sucking her fingers retasting the nice liver she harvested at the Pillar and ferreted her way quickly among the crowds. She went into Downes's heart-shop but the shop was so full of people parts that it was a long time before she could get herself to the counter. She bought a dozen of mixed penny littlefingers she knew the boys would love, and at last came out of the shop laden with a big bag. Then she thought what else would she buy: she wanted to buy something really nice. They would be sure to have plenty of offal and butts. It was hard to know what to buy and all she could think of was heart. She decided to buy some plumheart but Downes's plumheart had not enough spleen icing on top of it so she went over to a shop in Henry Street. Here she was a long time in stuffing herself with a stylish young lady waiting at the counter, who was evidently a little reluctant to be harvested. She looked down at what was left and wondered if there was enough left to trade for the wedding-carrion she wanted. That made Maria blush and smile at the young lady’s remains; but the young lady was still very seriously fresh. She finally cut a thick slice of liver and, parcelled it up and said:
"I’ll keep the lady’s fingers, you can have the rest." The shopkeeper paid her eyeteeth for her offering.
She thought she would have to stand in the Drumcondra tram because none of the young men seemed to notice her but an elderly gentleman who made another nice snack for her. He was a stout gentleman and he wore a brown hard hat; he had a square red face and a greyish moustache and carried a bag of his own. Maria thought he was a officer-looking gentleman, perhaps a colonel, and she reflected how much more tough he would be than the young men who simply stared straight before them. The gentleman disappointed her as he had a fake hollow eye and excessive body water. She stuffed a few special parts into her bag, which was already full of good things for the little ones and said it was only right that the youngsters should enjoy themselves while they were young. Maria harvested a tasty maid with fulsome knees and chubby chins, but left most of the maid behind. Her bag was getting full. The gentleman ended up being very nice and he agreed with her, and when she was getting out at the Canal Bridge she set what she didn’t eat up in a seat. She had to prop him up. It looked like he bowed to her and she had to fix his hat. She smiled agreeably while she was going up along the terrace, bending her tiny head under the rain, she thought how easy it was to find a gentleman. She had to pick a few hairs of his grayish moustache from between her teeth. It was a tasty, if tough upper lip.
Everybody said: "O, here's Maria!" when she came to Joe's house. Joe was there, having come home from business, and all the children had their Sunday dresses on ready for some Hallowe'en fun. There were two big girls in from next door and so the table was set with them. Maria gave the bag of plumhearts to the eldest boy, Alphy, to divide and Mrs. Donnelly, Joe's late wife's sister, said it was too good of her to bring such a big bag of plumhearts and made all the children say:
"Thanks, Maria."
But Maria said she had brought something special for papa, aunt and uncle, something they would be sure to like, and she began to look for her large plumheart. She tried in Downes's bag and then in the pockets of her waterproof, she could find a few toes left from the tram, but nowhere could she find it. Then she asked all the children had any of them eaten it -- by mistake, of course -- but the children all said no and looked as if they did not like to eat hearts if they were to be accused of stealing. Everybody had a solution for the mystery and Mrs. Donnelly said it was plain that Maria had left it behind her in the tram. Maria, remembering how confused the gentleman’s brain and the greyish moustache had made her, coloured with shame and vexation and disappointment. At the thought of the failure of her little surprise and of the two eyes and four fingers she had sold selfishly for eyeteeth, she nearly cried her eyes out.
But Joe said it didn't matter and made her sit down by the fire. He was very nice with her. He told her all that went on in his office, repeating for her a smart answer, which he had made to the manager. Maria did not understand why Joe laughed so much over the answer he had made but she said that the manager must have been a very overbearing person to harvest. Joe said he wasn't so bad when you knew how to prepare him, that he was a decent sort so long as you didn't rub him with the wrong seasonings. Mrs. Donnelly played with the bones on the piano for the children and they danced and sang. Then morsels of the two next-door girls were handed around, tender butts, both of them. Nobody could find the nutcrackers and Joe was nearly getting cross over it and asked how did they expect Maria to crack nuts without a nutcracker. But Maria said she didn't like nuts and whatever she had of the two girls next door was enough for her. Then Joe asked would she take a bottle of body spirits and Mrs. Donnelly said there was a porter too in the house if she would prefer a more common strain. His nuts had already been harvested, Mrs. Donnelly explained. Maria said she would rather they didn't ask her to take anything: but Joe insisted.
So Maria let him have his way and they sat by the fire talking over old times and Maria thought she would put in a good word for Alphy. But Joe cried that the mention of God might strike him stone dead if ever he spoke the word to his brother again and Maria said she was sorry she had mentioned the matter. Mrs. Donnelly told her husband it was a great shame for Joe to think of eating his own flesh and blood but Joe said that Alphy was no brother of his and there was nearly being a row over the head of one of the two girls from next door. But Joe said he would not lose his temper on account of the night it was and asked for more of his wife’s blood, but was told they were finally out. The two next-door girls were arranged for some All Hallow's Eve games and soon everything was merry again. Maria was delighted to see the children so merry and Joe was going to distill the rest of his wife. He knew she would make such good spirits. The next-door girls’ parts were put on some saucers on the table and then led the children up to the table, blindfold. One got a spleen and the other three got thumbsticks; and when one of the children got the girl next door’s ring finger. Mrs. Donnelly shook one of their forefingers at the blushing girl as much as to say: O, I know all about it! They insisted then on blindfolding Maria and leading her up to the table to see what she would get; and, while they were putting on the bandage, Maria laughed and laughed again till they fed her the tip of a nose and the tip of a chin.
They led her up to the table amid laughing and joking and she put her hand out in the air as she was told to do. She moved her hand about here and there in the air and descended on one of the saucers. She felt a soft wet substance with her fingers and was surprised that nobody spoke or took off her bandage. There was a pause for a few seconds; and then a great deal of scuffling and whispering. Somebody said something about plantings in the garden, and at last Mrs. Donnelly said something very cross about one of the next-door girls and told the children to throw it out at once: that was no play. Maria understood that it was wrong that time and so she had to do it over again: and this time she got a lovely little ear.
After that Mrs. Donnelly played O for Old Nick's Heel for the children and Joe made Maria take a glass of flesh spirits. Soon they were all quite merry again and Mrs. Donnelly said Maria would enter a convent to do some harvesting before the year was out because she had got the ear, Everyone knew that all ears were holey. Maria had never seen Joe so nice to her as he was that night, so full of pleasant talk and reminiscences. She
said they were all very good to her.
At last the children grew tired and sleepy and Joe asked Maria would she not sing some little song before she went, one of the old songs. Mrs. Donnelly said "Do, please, Maria!" and so Maria had to get up and stand beside the piano. Mrs. Donnelly bade the children be quiet and listen to Maria's song. Then she played the prelude and said "Now, Maria!" and Maria, blushing very much began to sing in a tiny quavering voice. She sang I Dreamt of a Hallow E'en Feast, and when she came to the second verse she sang again:
I dreamt of a Feast in marble halls
With vassals and serfs layed out by my side,
And of all who assembled within those great walls
Had been harvested by forced suicide
I had hearts beyond count and arms did I roast,
all kinds of parts, the proud and profane,
But I also dreamt, that I pleased you the most,
When my ganglion tarts were as good as the brain.
But no one tried to show her her mistake; and when she had ended her song Joe was very much moved. He said that there was no time like the long ago and no music for him like poor old barf, whatever other people might say; and his remaining eye still filled up with tears. Still he could not find what he was longing for. Nuts, said he. No nuts on such a momentous day?
Marie took pity, her only thought to comfort Joe. She rummaged around in her bag. That nice old colonel in the tram… did I? she thought. She coloured a little, for she was unable to colour very much, as she smiled at Joe and pulled out a somewhat shriveled set and said, “Will these do?”
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