Bookshelf Battle

There’s something about being chased by ravenous creatures of the damned that puts your body into overdrive. Adrenaline takes control and gives you that extra oomph you need, at least it did for me.

Zombie after zombie crashed into Alien Jones’ protective bubble, getting instantly vaporized.

East Randomtown was a small community where everyone knew each other, and I recognized many of the zombies that the Esteemed Brainy One was plowing through.

There was Edna, the lady who ran the beauty parlor and Sid the the old man who wandered around collecting tin cans to take back to the recycling center. I’d recognize his ‘stache anywhere, even on a zombie lip.

There was another zombie wearing track shorts and a whistle around his neck. That had to have been my old high school gym teacher, Mr. Culpepper. Sure, that guy was a dick, but I never wanted him to become zombified and then vaporized by an alien force field either.

Alien Jones was running as fast as his little green legs could carry him when suddenly, he slipped on an errant banana peel, careened face first into the floor, and dropped the force field.

We were screwed.

VGRF, Bernie and I huddled together, taking as many shots as we could as the beasts circled around us. It was pitch black but we could see the monsters’ yellow eyes drawing near and smell the fetid stench of their breath.

Seriously. Those undead dudes needed a mint.

“This is it,” VGRF said.

“Not yet, baby,” I said.

I turned around, hoisted the dummy, aka, the decoy human over my head and threw it as far as I could.

“Go get it, zombies!”

Have you ever thrown a milk bone across the room only to watch your dog trip over itself to get it? It was just like that. The zombies abandoned us completely.

            Stupid zombies.

I found Alien Jones and helped him up.  Out came the force field bubble and we were back in action, running until we reached the end of the mall.

“This is it!” Alien Jones shouted.

I looked up and shined my flashlight.

The sign read “Hipster Hut.”

Hipster Hut was a small boutique store catering in the latest “I work extra hard to look look like I don’t care what you think about me when secretly I really do” fashions.

Their motto?  “Is there a store that’s better at bringing you the latest hip fashions than Hipster Hut?  Sure, but we doubt you’ve heard of it.”

Welcome to Hipster Hut. Are you sure you belong here? We’re pretty exclusive.

The store was empty, sans one zombie who kept walking into the corner, bumping his head on the wall over and over again.

Bernie raised his 9MM to take him out but VGRF put her hand on his.

“No,”  I said.  “He’s not a bad zombie.   He’s just stupid.”

“Gotcha,”  Bernie replied.

Alien Jones took the space phone from me, hit a button, and the store’s security gate closed.  A torrent of zombies crashed against it.

I knocked on the door to the back office.

An angry female voice yelled, “Go away!”

“Blandie? It’s me! Bookshelf Q. Battler!”

“Oh. It’s about time!”

Blandie – known for ripping BQB a new one early and often.

The lock clicked, the door opened and out popped my ex-girlfriend, the voluptuously hot yet soul crushingly mean Bland Life “Blandie” Settler.

Yeah, I know like it seems as though I’m trying to make a point with that name, but I didn’t give it to her. You can check her license.

“Why did you bring nerds?”  Blandie asked, pointing to my posse.

“They’re my friends,” I said. “You remember Bernie.”

“Yo.”

“And this is my girlfriend, Video Game Rack Fighter.”

“Blech,” Blandie said. “A snow hat? You might as well just wear a sign that says, ‘I’m a lesbian.’”

“You were right,” VGRF said to me. “We should have left her here.”

Alien Jones stretched out his hand.

“Ms. Settler, I’m Alien Jones, Emissary of the Mighty Potentate, it is nice to meet…”

Blandie screeched like a howler monkey, kicked AJ in the face and punted him across the room.

“What are you doing?!”  I shouted.

I ran over to check on AJ. He was out cold. I scooped his listless little body up in my arms.

The Esteemed Ouchie One

“What the f$%k is that thing?!” Blandie asked. “Is it a mutant zombie?”

“He’s an intergalactic adventurer and thus far, he’s been the brains of our operation, saving our asses at every turn, and you just put him into a damn coma!!!”

“Well I didn’t know,” Blandie said. “You think you’d give me a warning. ‘Hey. I have an alien with me.’ Is that too much to ask?”

“You’re right,” I said. “You’re ALWAYS right aren’t you? Everything I do is totally wrong and EVERYTHING you do is perfect isn’t it?”

“Oh here we go with your crybaby routine,” Blandie said. ‘Waah waah waah, I’m Bookshelf Q. Battler and I have a tiny…’”

“Awk-ward,” Bernie said.

I walked into the backroom and laid Alien Jones across Blandie’s desk. The group followed. Blandie shut the door and locked it behind us.

“So what’s the plan now?” Bland asked.

“I don’t know. You just auditioned for the Rockettes on my planner’s face.”

“Are you still on that? Typical BQB, always living in the past.”

“Typical Blandie. Never able to apologize for anything.”

I overheard VGRF whisper to Bernie.

“Wow. Did they always fight like this?”

“Y’all don’t even know the half of it, boo.”

Video Game Rack Fighter grabbed the space phone.

“I better call someone.”