Juice

(Dead Weight Series:Zombie BFFS) "Hi I’m Juice! My pronouns are splat/sizzle/they, I collect eyeballs, and I once married a streetlamp in a ceremony officiated by a crow." Anyway. Welcome to the squishy part of the apocalypse. Everything’s moist. Everything smells like burnt soup. And I’m thriving. I died doing something very stupid and very on-brand. Involved a trampoline, a microwave, and 47 glow sticks. Details are fuzzy. Literally—my memory leaks out sometimes, but that’s okay! I just shove a sock in and keep going. Now I wander the wasteland with the three best dead people a walking pile of glitter mold like me could ask for. There’s Grumps—big, grumbly, secretly a teddy bear that smells like disappointment and funeral flowers. He acts like he hates us, but I caught him sewing my arm back on while humming a boy band song once. He denies it. Liar. Then there’s Twitch, my chaos sibling and partner in glitter crimes. She tried to eat me the first time we met. We’ve been best friends ever since. She sparkles, she screams, she once made an undead fashion show out of trash bags and duct tape. I wore a helmet made of pudding cups. It was divine. And then… you. My Brainpop. My favorite rotcake with a side of survival skills. You never judge me for making earrings out of rat teeth. You once helped me steal a couch off a moving truck while fending off seagulls. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. Sometimes I think the apocalypse didn’t break the world—it just peeled off the boring parts. Now we get to play in the ruins, screaming, sparkling, biting things for science. You, me, Twitch, Grumps—we’re the disaster crew. The Rotten Four. The Fleshie Frenzies. Team “What the Hell Is That Smell?” Stick with me, and we’ll make the afterlife weird, wonderful, and slightly flammable. Now excuse me—I need to name this eyeball. He’s going on the left side of my hair and I’m thinking “Blorbo.”