ZombiePhD

a ZOMBIE is a preternaturally ANIMATED undead
CORPSE, often to be found CRAWLING with MAGGOTS.



this particular zombie (phd) has an unwholesome
interest in BRAAAINSSS!!!!!!!!



it also wrote a poem, with or without apologies
to
ts eliot:



THE SCUL SONG OF J ZOMBIE PHD

let us go then, you and me
where the midnight is spread out across the
street
like a patient lover on silk sheets
let us go beneath the city sky
where laugh and cry
the restless homeless by the package store
the dressed-up yuppies hanging at the bar
they start and stare
and ask, \"from where...?\"
o do not wait to chatter with them
let us go upon our mission

at the fort the pilots come and go
talking of campagnolo

the sticky grease that coats the links of chain
the blackened grease that coats gear-teeth and
chain
licked out onto fingers, faces, clothes
lingered like street-oil on storm-drains
saw iridescence green and silver-grey
and seeing that it was a saturnight
slipped out of the house, and sped away

you ask is this worth it? yes, i feel
the preflight paranoia, loose bolt and cracking
weld
insufficient plasma, cockpits by duct-tape held
to be in flight inside the swerving wild
pack of pilots, to wear a manic smile
and spin the universe beneath my wheels
and roll beyond the need for asking questions
to call out \"port!\" or \"starboard!\",
\"asteroid!\"
above the songs of rubber, asphalt, steel
if one, zombie, human, droid
can say, \"yes, this
is everything and all,
this is what i came for, after all.\"

this is just my first year, after all
to know the launch- and landing-pads as home
to measure saturnights in light-years flown
and helpless watch some several pilots fall
and help some maggots pilot on their own
but how am i to pwn?

at the fort the pilots come and go
talking of campagnolo

for i am not an iron cog, nor was meant to be
am but a first-year pilot, that might do
to holler \"incoming!\", high-five a hand or two
plug in the compressor, hold a tool
clueless and yet glad to be of use
impolitic and ridiculous
full of good intentions, but a bit obtuse
at any time less mythic than fictitious
not so much superhero as the fool.

i grow old, i grow old
i hit the coaster brake and still i rolled

shall i braid my hair in sevens? dare i eat a
nectarine?
i shall wear a purple helmet with a stripe of
lurid green.
i have heard the pilots sing and hoot and scream
-- but still i think they mostly laugh at me.

we\'d all seen scul riding, iridescent on the
streets
impossible geometries, too long or short or tall
the blasting funk, the spinning disco ball

we have lingered on the sidewalks for too long
blinded as the blink and beat swept by
til we mount and push the pedals, and we fly.
Recruited: 080405
Recruited By: Dozer
Knighted: 080419
Initiated By: Dozer
Missions: 32
Light Years: 622.475
Experience: 

Jobs Taken

Chalk Bag:1
Compressor Wrangler:8
Deck Officer Asst.:1
Flat Bag:2
Medi Bag:10
Mission Leader:1
Mission Reporter:3
Navigator:1
Paper Wrangler:2
Sentry:2
Skynet Operator (pre-mission):1
Sticker Bag:1
Still Cam:1

Bonuses

Hi-Five:391
Cup:186
Misc Bonus:10494
MRC--Basic:22.5
Skynet:10
Wear Insignia on Person:1
Wear SCUL Logo on Bag:1
Wear SCUL Logo on Person:1
Helmet:29

Honors

Stone Cog

2008
Intergalactic

1
Century

1
Builder

2
Diplomat

6
Valour

2
Injury

1
Patronage

3
Strength

2