The Customer is always rot
Brian Rosenberger
The day after any holiday was always department store hell. It was expected, like customer complaints. He had suffered enough moaning and groaning. Thank goodness for the sporting goods section. The smell of gunsmoke lingered. The ceiling, the walls, this week’s ad were stained with Zombie brains. But like the sign said, "Absolutely no returns."
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Bio: Brian Rosenberger lives in a cellar in Marietta, GA and writes by the light of captured fireflies. He is a member of People for the Ethical Treatment of Werewolves and a staunch supporter for equal rights for the Undead.
Brian Rosenberger
The day after any holiday was always department store hell. It was expected, like customer complaints. He had suffered enough moaning and groaning. Thank goodness for the sporting goods section. The smell of gunsmoke lingered. The ceiling, the walls, this week’s ad were stained with Zombie brains. But like the sign said, "Absolutely no returns."
- - -
Bio: Brian Rosenberger lives in a cellar in Marietta, GA and writes by the light of captured fireflies. He is a member of People for the Ethical Treatment of Werewolves and a staunch supporter for equal rights for the Undead.
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