Tervel Andrews

WRITING EXERCISE (CONT'D)

A chinese restaurant owner puts the 23rd consecutive angry call on hold and goes to check, once again, if there are bugs in his kitchen. There aren't. He always gets an A on his health inspections, and his bleach, so concentrated that it's illegal outside the virology industry, is only sold on the black market. So what the fuck are people talking about when they say they found termites in their fortune cookies, causing words to be eaten away, changing the messages from fortunes to threats? At this point he would be willing to personally deliver to anyone calling him to place an order, even to the black neighborhoods.

This is not related to the other events. This is just shitty luck. But across town,...zombies.