Diary of Jake and His Zombie Pigman

Jake’s diary becomes the lens through which a city’s ordinary rhythms fracture into something perilous and intimate. A routine night out spirals as the zombie Pigman’s presence unravels a memory Jake has tried to bury—an old danger that refuses to stay buried. The two of them slip through stairwells that breathe dust and passing notes that sting like cold rain, each step tightening the bond that grows between fear and necessity. In these pages, the two travelers negotiate trust, loyalty, and the weight of debts owed to those who cannot repay. The danger isn’t only from outside forces; it’s in the choices Jake makes when the line between guardian and burden begins to blur, and the city itself seems to echo their unspoken pact with every flicker of streetlight and every stray whisper.

Diary of Jake and His Zombie Pigman sits at the intersection of suburban familiarity and uncanny, shifting danger. It sits squarely in Mark Mulle's ongoing experimentation with ordinary life colliding with the extraordinary, expanding the diary-format into kinetic, character-driven episodes. Critics have noted its surprising warmth and restrained humor amidst macabre antics, with particular attention to how Jake's voice carries both grit and vulnerability. The series has garnered a steady, devoted readership for its brisk pacing and vivid, lived-in sense of place.