"And pricks live forever…"
Whenever I sit down and watch a good zombie flick, I expect to see two things: zombies killing people in comedic fashion, and people killing zombies in comedic fashion. Nothing else has to make sense.
Whether it's radical medical laboratory accident (new guy's fault), a military experiment gone awry (Pfc. Jenkins pushed the wrong button), or legions of the damned rising from the grave (no vacancy in Hell), it doesn't matter how the zombies get here. They're here. And they're hungry for brains. Your brains. Your girlfriend's brains. But not her implants (silicon does not digest well, so I've heard).
Complementing the zombie hordes is screaming, gratuitous violence, comedic death scenes, sexy female nudity, and edge-of-your-seat lesbian makeout scenes. Nothing beats a good zombie flick.
So I've decided to throw our old friends from the bank robbery into the mix. Sucks to be them. Enjoy.
Text Message Conversation @ 6:47 EST, Somewhere in the Ohio Valley, Summer, Dusk
What happens when you decide to "wait out the traffic jam."Chase: shit is fubar! zombies overran ball game
Chase: get fckng gone! mt @ house asAp
Mason: dinner w/ hottie ttyl
Chase: zombies killed umpire!
Mason: she cravin my manjam hard bro
Chase: run fucker
Mason: lol u get ticket refund?
Chase: fine go die
Text Message Conversation @ 6:59 EST
Chase: mt @ house zombies in town
Reed: liquor store
Chase: run asshol
Reed: pledge still paying dude
Chase: get him & go
Reed: u sux big hairy cockz 4 fun
Chase: i hate u
Reed: that was mitch he stole my phone leaving now
Two Hours into the Outbreak, In the Bushes
Mason: Bro, look! It's fuckin' Reed and Mitch!
Chase: Psst! Hey, over here!
Reed: Dude, what the fuck is going on? Fuckin' zombies are running around all over the place.
Chase: Where's the pledge?
Reed: Fuck if I know. I wasn't gonna wait forever in that parking lot. This shit is fucked up.
Mason: I know, right? This shit totally ruined my date with that hottie Kate, bro. You know, from the bank?
Reed: Where is she?
Mason: She totally got eaten by a zombie, bro. We was runnin' and ‘ish, and this zombie was all like "Braaaaains!" and jumped her from an alley. It was fucked up.
Mason: Bro, the zombie dude ripped her face off with his teeth. I think that exemplifies "eaten."
Reed: Whoa, that's a big word for you, buddy. That's like, a ten-pointer. Triple-word bonus, even.
Mason: Thanks, bro.
Chase: You two done sucking each other off? Good, ‘cause we can't stay here in the bushes all night. Look, the house is just down the street. We should be safe once we reach it. I doubt the zombies have made it this far north. On my mark, we run for it. Got it?
Mitch: Brah, that's like three blocks away.
Mitch: No way I can run three blocks. I'm fuckin' out of my mind, brah.
Chase: The fuck you say?
Reed: This prick made me stop on our way over here so he could light up. He said he needed it to calm his nerves.
Chase: Listen here, you fuckin' junkie—I left a whole bag of shrooms in the basement of our—
Mason: Bro, he didn't even let you finish.
Chase: It got him moving, yeah? C'mon, let's go after him before he gets himself killed by something smarter than him.
Outside the Fraternity House
Chase: Holy fuck, is that the pledge on our porch? How'd he beat us back?
Reed: Fucker probably sucked off the zombies to leave him alone.
Jim: Oh! I'm so glad you guys made it! I was getting worried, especially after Reed and Mitch left me in that parking lot. I mean, I swore that you saw me waving my arms and shouting. I thought I was pretty visible in this pink polo.
Reed: I—I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, pledge. Maybe I thought you were a zombie. It was dark. My Jeep ran out of gas anyway.
Jim: Oh, I know. I found it abandoned about a mile from where you left me. Silly Reed, I thought I'd reminded you earlier to fill it up on your way home from classes. But anyways, on to the present! I know you're all just dying to know what's in the bags!
Chase: Not really.
Jim: Well, I packed some things just for this sort of special occasion. I'm so excited these kits are going to finally come in handy.
Reed: Occasion? This isn't a birthday party, you fuckin' fairy. It's the end of the world!
Jim: Well, well, it looks like someone doesn't want his Mossberg.
Chase: Holy fuck, pledge. Where did you get that cannon? That's a fuckload of ammo.
Jim: Gun show season in Virginia. I had some spending cash lying around after I won that lottery last year, so I splurged on making a zombie survival kit for each of you. I bought shotguns, pistols, ammo, food, army-issue duffel bags, knives, flashlights, and even lighters. It seemed like a fun little project at the time. See? Each of you can take one bag. Well, open them.
Mason: Dried fruit? That's our food?
Jim: Well, fresh fruit doesn't really keep, and this stuff is really light. Besides, if we let something as frivolous as the zombie apocalypse get in the way of our diets, then well…why even bother in the first place!
Mason: Dried fruit won't keep me going after a long day of zombie hunting. I need meat, bro.
Jim: I got it covered. Protein bars!
Chase: Seriously, dial down the homo. Really? Blueberry-flavored?
Jim: It was all they had left at the store when I went.
Reed: Fuck it. The zombies can take me now. What's this? Fuckin' sandwiches again?!
Jim: Oh, I made those this morning. I had planned for them to be a midnight snack, but figured with the zombies and all, might as well munch on them now to keep our energy up.
Mason: Fuck yeah, bro, we got our own little Martha Stewart up in here. Cookin' and plannin' and shit. Yo pledge, you got them kettle-cooked chips? And beer?
Jim: Of course! Over here by the cooler. Help yourself.
Mason: Fuck yeah! This might not be such a bad zombie apocalypse after all, broskis. Shotgun double time!
Chase: I'm really beginning to doubt your sanity, Mason. Don't point that gun at me.
Mitch: Hey brah, there ain't no shrooms in the basement. Or the coat closet. Or the roof. You lied to me.
Chase: Sue me. Here, saddle up. We're blowing this Popsicle stand.
Reed: Where are we going?
Chase: To the mall. Duh.
Six Hours into the Outbreak, Monroe Forest Park
Mitch: Brah, I got it. We just get the zombies high.
Mitch: Yeah, brah. Like, we just gotta find a whole bunch of weed, roll it, and light that bitch. Have a little campfire with Mary Jane. When the zombies swing by and inhale our primo stash, they'll mellow out, and then we can escape.
Chase: Except then they're gonna get even more hungry for your nuts than they already are.
Mason: Zombies don't like nuts. They like humans.
Chase: Gimme that! Where the hell did you get pistachios?
Mason: Dude, like, back at the convenience store. Remember? I almost had my dick in that clerk chick before the zombies cock blocked me. That's twice in one night, bro. One more and it'll be a party foul record.
Reed: Yeah, we did have a good thing going with those other survivors until someone opened the fuckin' front door.
Mitch: Why you always gotta bring up old shit? It was hot in there, brah. I needed some fresh air. I said I was sorry already. It's not like I asked the zombies to bust in and eat those people. Damn, don't get your panties in a bunch. We need to find another food store with hot chick survivors, brah, that's all.
Jim: I think there's a store just up around the corner. C'mon, I'll lead.
Seven Hours into the Outbreak, Seventh and Coleman, Outskirts of Town
Jim: Well, sure the world ended, but we're still a fraternity, right? I mean, I'm not gonna presume I'm a member now just because we need to stick together to survive or anything.
Mitch: Brah, you said the store was just around the corner. It's been like, twenty corners brah.
Reed: I'll fuckin' rip off zombie heads all day long with my bare hands as long as I got me my Muscle Milk. You know what I'm sayin'? Gotta keep at my peak for the ladies.
Chase: What ladies?
Reed: C'mon bro, you know. The ladies—
Chase: —shut up! Everyone down!
Reed: Don't tell me to shut up, bitch.
Chase: Zombies, fucker.
Reed: Bro, we got shotguns. I'm not hiding from shit.
Jim: We're out of ammo, man. We ditched the bags in our escape from the convenience store.
Mason: Fuck me, man. Must be a two dozen of ‘em. What the fuck do we do?
Mitch: I'm going to eat. Got the munchies bad, brah. Can't take it anymore. Those pistachios weren't enough. Check it, there's a Pollo Loco just down the street. Let's bogey.
Chase: Wait! Fuck! Get back here, you idiot! Great, they spotted us.
Zombie Horde: Braaaaaaiiiiinssssssss!!!!
Jim: We should probably follow him.
Chase: For a guy that bitches about exercise, the fucker sure can move when he's high.
A Few Blocks Down, Pollo Loco Restaurant Parking Lot
Reed: Fuck me, I need to start hittin' the track again. Fuck this running shit.
Chase: Where is he? Where is that shithead?!
Mitch: Hey! Over here! I think I found a way in! All the doors are locked, but I think this ladder will get us to the roof, and we can bust a skylight and get it to the kitchen.
Reed: Perfect. Get the fuck outta my way.
Rooftop of the Pollo Loco
Jim (in the alley below): Hey guys! Guys! You must've forgotten about me! You pulled up the ladder. Can you drop it for me?
Reed: We drop it and we all die. Those fuckers are right behind us.
Mason: Bro, that's our pledge. What kind of frat are we without a pledge? I mean, we need at least one, right?
Mitch: Brah, I don't think they're going to lower it. Here, it's my last spliff. You need it more than I do now. Ah, brah, you let it drop into that puddle. Foul, brah. No respect.
Jim: They're not gonna lower it?
Chase: Why are we even arguing? Reed, drop the ladder.
Reed: If I do, they'll climb up here and fuckin' eat our brains, bro! I don't want that!
Jim: Uh, guys? That group of zombies just spotted me. Now's the time to help out.
Mason: I wouldn't mind that one zombie chick down there climbin' up on my dick. She's kinda cute, ya? Her titties all hangin' out of her ripped and wet shirt…hot.
Reed: You're fucking sick, bro.
Mason: Bro, she's got great tits.
Jim: I'm out of ammo, guys! And I'm trapped down here in this dead-end! Things are bleak!
Chase: How do you even know zombies can climb ladders?
Reed: I'm not taking the chance!
Jim: They're staggering forward! They've got malice in their beady eyes!
Mason: Bro, he is the only one who can cook.
Reed: Like that fucking matters right now, Mason!
Jim: They're all around me! They're touching me with their clammy hands! Oh Merciful Mother! Aiiiieeee!
Seventy-Four Seconds of Uncomfortable Silence Later
Chase: You look.
Reed: Fuck you, you look. You left him down there.
Chase: You're the prick that wouldn't drop the ladder.
Reed: And you know what? I don't see any zombies on the roof. That's a win in my book.
Mitch: Hey brah…he's gone.
Mitch: Yeah brah, he's not in the alley.
Mason: That's fucking trippy, bro. No blood or nothin'.
Mitch: Whoa…what if they took him away to gang-rape his face before they ate it, brah? That'd be, like, if you fucked a cow in the ass before you threw his rump on the grill. Brah…whoa. I wonder if that makes it taste better? Do the zombies know something we don't about the culinary arts? What if the zombies are really chefs…from the future?! Maybe they finally discovered the secret spice…sex. Like marinating, but more aggressive. I'll bet they're cramming his holes full of rotten zombie dick right now, glazin' him with their special sauce before they feast on his trembling flesh…mmmm…now I'm hungry.
Mason: You really need to lay off that shit, bro.
Reed: I did not want that image in my head. Now it will haunt me forever and ever. Great.
Chase: Well, I'm not staying up here. C'mon, let's go.
Reed: Why? You got a fuckin' death wish?
Chase: I'm going to look for the pledge. Do you really want to go back to cleaning your own rooms? Making breakfast for yourselves? Tying your own fucking ties? Paying for your beer? I don't. I'm going after him, even if there's only a slight chance of him surviving the zombie gang-rape. Don't be a pussy, Reed.
Reed: Fuck you, man! I'm not gonna get skull-fucked by a zombie! That is not how Reed Redford is going out! He's going to die surrounded by hot bitches with two nostrils full of coke! On my dad's yacht! Not here! Not now! And besides, I know how to tie my own ties.
Chase: The Windsor doesn't count, you pleb. Everyone knows that one. Fuck man, did you already forget about Tijuana? The mime? The pledge has come through for you every time you needed him, and you can't do this one thing?
Reed: Don't even try to guilt trip me with TJ, bro. That was different.
Chase: You're such a douche. I'm leaving. Who's with me?
Mason: Mitch turned catatonic after his cooking lesson, bro. I think he's out. But I'll go. What if there are still hot chicks out there? Bitches will need a hero to save them from zombie gang-rape, am I right? Plus, the pledge was carrying all the beer.
Chase: Just us? Fine. Fuck you two.
Mason: Yeah! And when we find the pledge, we'll make sure to eat your sandwiches along with ours!
Ten Hours into the Outbreak, ‘Fired Up Fuels' Gas Station
Mason: You really think they dragged him all the way out here?
Chase: I don't give a fuck about him. I'm looking for a car that works.
Mason: You mean all that shit you said on the roof, that was lies?
Chase: Yes. I just want to drive the fuck outta here before the military gets all uppity and nukes us. I made the other shit up about loyalty to the pledge so Reed and Mitch would purposely refuse. I hate both those fuckers and I hope they die in a thermonuclear inferno.
Mason: Does that mean you like me?
Chase: I only keep you around because you know how to hotwire cars.
Mason: Thanks, bro. That means a lot coming from you.
Chase: Whatever. Go find a car that works. You know, over there. Away from me. Fuckin' faggot.
Melbourne Heights Subdivision, North of the Pollo Loco
Reed: Remind me again why we left the safety of the roof?
Mitch: Brah, we need munchies. I'm fuckin' shakin' bad.
Reed: And you know where the store is, right?
Mitch: Not really. I've never been to the poor side of town.
Reed: Oh shit, get down. It's a fuckin' zombie.
Mitch: Brah, man, don't panic. This is easy. I once did a training simulation for this exact kind of situation.
Reed: Where the fuck did you get those shells? I thought we ran out.
Mitch: Brah, you might've run out. I conserved my ammo for the next level.
Reed: The fuck you talkin' about?
Mitch: Part of the training, brah.
Reed: You need to stop smoking that shit.
Mitch: Says you. According to the training sim, we go for the headshot. Try that.
Reed: Waaaait…what company offers a zombie killing simulation?
Mitch: Dude, I think the company was called Resident Evil. Here, load and lock, brah.
Reed: Well, fuck. That didn't work. Son of a bitch is still moving toward us. Took half his fuckin' face off and he's still moving!
Mitch: Shoot ‘em again, brah.
Reed: Fuck you, you shoot him.
Mitch: Fucking movies and video games have been lying to us! They're supposed to die after a headshot!
Reed: Did you ever fucking stop and think that maybe Hollywood is all fictional? I mean, remember the bank job? That time in Cleveland?
Mitch: Why you always gotta bring up old shit?
Reed: Maybe you should shut the fuck up about shit you don't know shit about.
Mitch: I know how to kill zombies, brah. Done it a million times.
Reed: In a fucking game! You think you're hot shit?! Then pull the trigger.
Mitch: Fine!—Fuck me, I am baked. I blew his intestines through his spine. How the fuck is he still walking?
Reed: Well, there's a dumpster down the road. We could hide in there.
Mitch: Not until I get my munchies, brah. C'mon, maybe there's a store down this way.
Reed: We just came from that way. Seriously, fuck my life.
"Fired Up Fuels" Gas Station
Chase: I don't believe it.
Reed: Funny finding you cocksuckers here.
Mitch: Hey brah, there any food inside? It's okay, I'll check for you.
Chase: You brought the zombies here! They followed you, you asshole!
Reed: Not my fault! It's not like I sent out a Facebook invite!
Mason: We are totally surrounded, broskis.
Mitch: No food, seriously? Oh hey, zombies.
Chase: Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! I fuckin' hate all of you. I hope they kill each of you first, so before I die I can watch all of you die in pain and misery. That would be such sweet release to me.
Mitch: This is it…no more spliffs…no more munchies…no more bitches.
Mason: Hold me.
Eleven Hours into the Outbreak, 67th Mechanized Infantry Battalion, Golf Company Headquarters, East of Town
Reed: So what's the army really like, bro?
Tank Driver: Honestly, pretty boring.
Reed: Boring? Aren't we fighting like, five wars right now? Iraq, Terror, Drugs, Obesity, Crime…how can it possibly be boring?
Tank Driver: I'm in the Guard, man. And a tank driver on top of that. Theeeey…really don't need me for disaster relief, and on the off chance I catch a deployment, overseas I mainly sit in the motor pool and surf the Net. This zombie shit? Fucking best time of my career. I ran over a whole fuckin' mob of ‘em earlier. Their stupid little heads popped like popcorn under my treads. And before that, we fired off a few rounds into a shopping mall to clear a den of those fuckers. Then our gunner mowed down the stragglers with the fifty.
Reed: You are my hero, bro. I might actually start wearing one of those pink wristbands to show my support for you guys.
Tank Driver: Yellow.
Chase: Hey! Reed! Stop flirting with the fuckin' soldier! Get the fuck over here! Army dude wants to meet us.
The Fuck Over Here, East of Town
Redfield: I'm Major Redfield, 67th Mechanized Infantry Battalion, Golf Company, Ohio National Guard. Glad to see you boys alive. Sorry about the rough handling earlier, can't have civvies running around with shotguns. Had to be sure you were safe. So I'm sure you all have questions. Let's have it.
Chase: First off, how did you know where to find us?
Redfield: We found a friend of yours earlier, a James Barrington, is it? He said you might still be in town. He listed this area as one of your possible hiding spots.
Reed: Pledge! His name is Pledge!
Redfield: Whatever. He's being checked out by the medical team back at battalion HQ. Seems like he made it out okay, no bites or anything on him. Aside from some cuts and bruises, he's fine. Lucky SOB, if you ask me.
Mason: I guess the zombies don't like queer meat. Ha! Get it? Like deer meat, but it's queer! High five!
Redfield: Shut up and put your hand down.
Chase: Definitely not a high five moment, jackass. So, what the fuck is going on? What happened?
Redfield: In brief, there was an outbreak, something nasty. A supply truck from a pharmaceutical company crashed on the highway just past Route 735. It was carrying some hazardous biological cargo destined for the incinerator, but unfortunately it got into the water supply. I'm assuming since you all are okay that you didn't drink from the tap recently.
Mason: Beer and more beer, bro!
Chase: Like he said, plus bottled stuff here and there. Our water pump's been broken since March. Campus maintenance is boycotting repairs until we promise not to bang their girlfriends and wives. Like that would ever happen. Again.
Redfield: Interesting stroke of luck, I'd say. Let's finish this conversation in a more secure environment. We'll escort you back to our Decontamination Zone and get you patched up. None of you look like you're infected, but we'll scrub ya down just to make sure.
Reed: The pledge has herpes. You should scrub him extra hard. On his balls.
Mason: Can I ride on the tank?
Thirteen Hours after Outbreak, Holding Room Outside the Decontamination Zone
Chase: I feel so violated yet so refreshingly clean.
Mason: I think that one chem-suit person was actually a chick. She was totally feeling me up with that brush.
Jim: Everyone else got scrubs? They gave me a little brown towel.
Reed: I told them you didn't want them.
Jim: What? Why?
Reed: Because you're the pledge! And pledges don't get nice things! Now shut the fuck up before I fuckin'…oh hey, hey! I wasn't going to hit him, lady. Put the gun down, same team, same team! Hey Major Bossman, your soldier-babe here tried to hit me with her gun!
Major Redfield: Shut up and sit down. Why the hell is that guy only wearing a towel?
Jim: I guess I didn't want one.
Redfield: Go back in there and change, idiot. As for the rest of you, sit tight. I need to speak with the Colonel about a few things before your debriefings. If you guys need anything, just ask Ramirez here and she'll assist you. See you shortly.
Mason: Soldier-babe—kinda cute, too, ya bro? In a camo kind of way. Hey babe, think you can assist me with a little CPR? Must be your tight bod that's got me feeling all sorts of light-headed.
Cpl. Ramirez: I killed a man with my bare hands during the war.
Mason: Killer kung-fu grip, me like…great for stro—ACK!
Chase: You don't know how long I've waited for someone to smash in his stupid peanut head. You are my new favorite person.
Cpl. Ramirez: It was non-lethal. He should wake up in a few minutes.
Chase: Too bad.
Reed: Quick! Quick! Someone get me a fuckin' Sharpie!
Ohio National Guard Regional Emergency Operations & C4i Mobile HQ, CO's Office
Major Redfield: Well sir, what do we do with these civilians? They're the first ones we've seen uninfected. All our other survivors either died from their injuries or turned up infected and had to be put down.
Colonel Chubbs: For starters, see what they know about these so-called "zombies." Then take ‘em out of the hot zone to Fort Lee. Oh, but sit ‘em down, individually of course, and see if any of ‘em want to join up first. The Army can always use a few more experienced warfighters.
Redfield: Understood, sir.
Interview Room: Excerpts from Debriefings of Ohio Valley Outbreak Survivors
Jim: Oh sure, sure, I'll sign the enlistment papers. I wasn't really into the college deal anyway. Studying was never my strong suit. Plus, I'll finally get away from those psychos you found me with. Oh…my…gosh!—like you wouldn't believe the grief they put me through! I mean, how hard is it to commit? Either you stick to your diet and eat what I give you, or you go have a cheeseburger and fries with the other fatties at Fatty-McFat King! You can't expect tight abs forever when you're sucking down those greaseball burgers! I'm not a miracle worker, here. Geez. Gimme' the damn pen.
* * *
Mitch: The army? Do I have to take a piss test, brah? ‘Cause like, I'm down for one…but like my calendar is full up until next month. You know how it is, bein' a playa…can we do it then?
* * *
Reed: Fuck yeah! So I get to drive a tank and you'll pay off my student loans? Where the fuck do I sign?
* * *
Mason: Is it really true that bitches love dudes in uniform? Like, what's the pussy ratio for a guy just starting out? Three, four times a week? It's gotta' be better than firefighters, am I right?
* * *
Chase: Technically I still haven't graduated, but a commission sounds like a sweet deal right about now.
Redfield: We can always waive the degree requirement, especially in these troubling times. And since you'd be placed in such a high-demand career field, we can offer an early promotion incentive package as part of your commitment.
Chase: Meaning if my CO bites it, I get his job?
Chase: Where do I sign?
(insert lesbians making out here)