Fruitbat by Micah Carver

Si . . .
It’s Halloween and my birthday. No one ever remembers that though. The party my friends wanted to throw became my responsibility again, but I just don’t have the bandwidth for it tonight, so I’m sneaking out to get some air.
The grumpy shop clerk is lucky I’m there to help when he takes that gnarly fall and smashes his head on the shelf.

Danny . . .
I took this nightmare convenience store gig so I could pay my bills while waiting for a literary agent to finally discover me. That was four years ago, and I haven’t been inspired to write anything new for even longer than that.
Of course, I slip and knock myself out in front of the prettiest zombie I’ve ever seen. I keep telling him to go, but he insists on sticking around.