Stinky Squad: The first horrific chapter!!

May 5, 2007 at 1:49 am 3 comments

Stinky Squad is a group of loser teens with gross mutant superpowers. Stinky Squad is also the funniest, most disgusting book in the history of literature!

Click on the image to see the full cover! front_cover_working_file5.jpg

Click ‘More’ to read the first Stinky chapter…



Chapter 1) Burp!

Was that the echo of the world twisting insides-out?

Or just the cat scratching, ‘Let me in? ROWRR!’

Except… we don’t own a cat.

* * * * *

Spinner jerked awake and groped for his glasses.

‘Today’s the day!’

Two figures burst through his bedroom door. GRASH! They brushed off splinters and wrestled; or possibly danced. Dust swirled through slices of morning sun.

Glasses on, Spinner blinked.

Festering skulls rotated toward him, their lips and eyelids rotted away, exposing teeth like claws and bulging eyeballs that could never blink.


But that’s… insane…? Where’s my darn cake?

Spinner’s bum-hole puckered like Gran’s gob at Christmas. He held up his blue hands. They looked normal enough, apart from the shaking rippling his silk pyjamas. He pinched himself. ‘Ouch!’

Super insane!

Small Zombie struggled to bite Big Zombie’s bottom.


Spinner’s nostrils quivered. The rotting, brawling corpses smelt like something his dog would dig up, and bury again, whimpering. That is, if we owned a dog.

‘Brains… mmm.’ Big Zombie shoved Small Zombie through a cupboard and loomed over Spinner’s bed. ‘Must eat… brains!’

‘Gah!’ Spinner squeaked and pulled in his legs.

Too slow. Big Zombie seized Spinner’s left foot. Zombie spit dribbled onto his toes. ‘Mmm… brains…?’

Spinner’s stomach spasmed. He squinted at Big Zombie’s night-dress. ‘Mum…? Is that you? And Suzy??’

Zombie Mum grinned hideously. ‘Join us… mmm… in death!’ Her mouth creaked wide, a rat trap with bad plaque.

‘Mum, you really need to floss!’ Spinner’s forehead blossomed sweat. ‘Don’t bite meeeee!’

A familiar rumble surged up Spinner’s throat, but with a tingling he’d never felt before. From his mouth, projectile vomit erupted.


Unchewed chunks splashed against his undead mum. She reeled, clutching her smoking head. ‘Aaah, burnies!’

That’s… different. Spinner’s heart sucked blood.

Vomit rebound splashed the bed between his legs.

The doona fizzled.

Spinner gawked.

His vom gobbled through feathers, two sheets, a mattress, and the bed base. Below the bed, carpet crackled.

‘Oooh… powers!’ Coated in splinters, Zombie Sister shot Spinner a glance almost of respect.

Zombie Mum, head blazing, checked her watch. ‘Must watch… mmm…. TV.’

‘TV… mmm.’ Zombie Sister agreed. The pair lurched out of the bedroom, through the wall.


‘Woo.’ Spinner spun in his smouldering bed. ‘Acid spew… zombie family… and it’s sport day at school. Has to be a nightmare. But I’ve already done the pinch test…’ Spinner glimpsed a chunk of vom-carrot on his leg. ‘Gah!’

He flicked. The carrot tumbled through dust swirls, melted through his Turbo Tubeblaster bodyboard and on, through the wall beyond. Flames licked up.

Huh? Spinner checked where the vomit had squatted on his leg.


It’s too early. I need sugar. This blows!

He peered down the barf-hole in the middle of his bed. The vom splash had chowed clean through the carpet and floorboards below. Smoke wafted.

Undead family in the TV room and fire in the house. His mind tumble-turned.

Time to leave the house!

Spinner climbed down his doona remnants, crashing bum-first in the dirt beneath his room. Beside him, a hole bubbled. How far would that spew chew? Right through the Earth’s core to war-torn Orange Land??

Who cares?!

Spinner bumped toward the mansion’s edge and squinted. All clear. He scurried across the lawns that took the gardener a week to mow and ducked beneath the Oztrailer flag, dangling limply. Clear. He wheezed to the perimeter hedge, fell to his hands and knees, and peered at his street.

Hairy purple postman legs lurched by. Spinner reeled. Was the postie delivering zombie mail, dead on time…?

A distant ‘mmm… hmm…’ hummed. Or was that just electrical wires? The street fell silent, except for Spinner’s thumping heart and grumbling stomach. Shoosh, internal organs.

He sniffed and turned around. Were those flames rising from the mansion?

Nothing makes sense! Yesterday, Mum and Suzy were annoying, but hardly zombies. And my spew was mildly acidic; not head-melting, mutant death acidic

Of course! Spinner jolted. Today’s my birthday! He forced a chuckle. Welcome to 14-dom! This insanity must be the work of some beyond reality TV show! Or a warped marketing stunt by Zomboid Dave, maker of Oztrailer’s finest chemical-enhanced lollies. Yes, this was too weird not to have TV involved somehow! With Mum and Suzy in on the bull! Spinner patted his spiky hair and glanced around for hidden cameras


Spinner jumped at the scream. With regular pauses for breath, the scream closed in. Spinner crawled out from his hedge, slipped between two luxury cars and peered along his street toward the shabby side of town.

A figure sprinted; all pumping, gangly limbs. The teen screamer tripped across an intersection, almost splatting face-first. He looks more human than zombie… I suppose. Spinner noted the guy’s patched pyjamas, ratty blanket worn cape-style and the pillow stuck to the side of his head, dribbling lumps of coloured foam.

Spinner snorted. It’s the purple weirdo in the year above me who thinks he’s so bad, even though he owns the most fertile crop of acne in the Southern Hemisphere, and a harsh but true nickname…

‘Zitron!’ Spinner called, from between a Mercedes Bent and a Kruppster.

Zitron stopped running, and screaming. ‘What the…?’ He panted, and leaned on a 12-cylinder Impala, eyes darting. His mouth scrunched, a purple cat’s bum of confusion.

‘Want to borrow my glasses?’ Spinner waved. ‘You need them!’

‘Who the…?’ Zitron focused, recognised Spinner and shifted to mocking tone. ‘Oh, it’s you: the flash blue nerd who spins around and ralphs to wangle out of sport.’

‘That’s why they call me Spinner.’ Spinner forced what he hoped was a macho chuckle. ‘I like to avoid jerky school sports because I prefer a real sport: bodyboarding.’

Zitron cocked an eyebrow.

Spinner gulped. Is he part of the act? I’m not sure what’s worse: tricky zombies, or losing face to hidden TV cameras. Spinner stood tall and confident, and one ruler shorter than Zitron. Either way, I’m famous in the school-yard for my snappy replies, and I’ve ample for the likes of this scrawn-bag jerk. ‘Did you know you have a pillow stuck to your ear?’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Zitron flicked at his pillow, knocking out more fluff. ‘I’m not an idiot, Shrimp.’ He wiped sweat off his pimple-mountained forehead. ‘While I dozed last night, my zit pus somehow glued this pillow to my noggin, and my back to this blanket. Crazy, eh?’

If Zitron’s acting, he’s a teenage Wrestle Crowe. If he isn’t acting, it seems he’s also immune to his own pus.


‘Oi.’ Zitron bent. ‘Try to tear my pillow off, Shrimp.’

Spinner shrugged, grabbed the stained pillow and yanked. ‘Sure. Just don’t call me Shrimp.’

‘Yee!’ Zitron’s head cracked along for the ride. ‘Stop! My neck ricked in three places! You’re only making my pillow leak more fluff!’

‘Shoosh!’ Spinner waved his arms. ‘Believe me, you don’t want to disturb the neighbours!’ Spinner’s stomach burbled again. He struggled to keep his expression casual. ‘Um, why exactly were you screaming down my street?’

‘Oh… that. Heh.’ Zitron darkened. ‘I woke to see my dog Skull munching through my pillow! Like he wanted to snack on my brain!! I only escaped by distracting old Skully with a bone. Heh, his own leg bone.’

Spinner prodded his features into a smile. ‘You expect me to believe you have a PET? And that your pet turned into a ZOMBIE??’

‘Shrimp, the whole country’s gone zombie!’

‘That’s bull!’ Spinner dropped his front. ‘You’re in on the darn stunt too, aren’t you? Tell me!’ He grabbed Zitron by the blanket. ‘There are no zombie pets in Oztrailer! No zombies at all!! And I don’t have acid death spew!!!’

‘Easy, Shrimp. You don’t look so ho–’

Urrrlp!’ Spinner threw up. This time, onto the neighbour’s Iced Volvo.


Spinner and Zitron spun into the spiky hedge.

Broooom-blackened, Zitron boggled. ‘You DO have acid death ralph!’

‘This is a TV hoax!’ Spinner paled. ‘Right, Zitron? Right!?’ But Spinner knew in his gut no TV hoax could explain his deadly new spew… power, as Zombie Suzy called it.

Zombies burst out of every gate along the street. Skulls rotated and neck bones clicked. Undead eyeballs locked onto Spinner and Zitron. As one, the zombies lurched toward them.

‘No hoax this?’ Spinner’s cunning tongue froze.

‘Mmm… brains!’

Zitron massaged his forehead. ‘I don’t reckon I’ll be the same without my brain!’


Spinner moaned. ‘Why do they always have to say that?’


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3 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Jackie Hosking  |  August 11, 2007 at 11:10 pm

    DC – what can I say…

    I’ve only read the first page and was greeted by this line….

    “Spinner’s bum-hole puckered like Gran’s gob at Christmas. ”

    What a visual!!

    Gross teenagers will love it and Gran’s everywhere will take better care at Christmas!!

  • 2. loren  |  August 20, 2010 at 10:57 am

    it was a fantasic zombie story from chapter 1.
    I hope to read more of your books

  • 3. zombie apocalypse  |  March 12, 2013 at 9:16 pm

    The drug is known causes aggression and confusion that can grow with dehydration.
    kill’ a zombie. The troops are torn apart by the same enemy soldiers they had killed a few minutes earlier in an ambush.


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