Another morning in the computer lab.
Coming Soon – Johnny Gunhands: A Farewell to Hands (hands to be edited out in post-production)
I paced the floor and slurped on stale coffee while Alien Jones typed the words as they flowed from my cake hole.
“Johnny Gunhands. He’s muscular, rugged, virile, and in his late twenties.”
“ERRRNT! Wrong!” the Esteemed Brainy One replied.
“Wrong! How could someone become such a skilled master at taking down criminals without a bit of life experience behind him?” Alien Jones asked. “Personally, I picture Johnny Gunhands pushing forty.”
“Aww but then the young people won’t read it,” I said. “Everyone under thirty-five is convinced that everyone over thirty five is a bunch of corrupt old farts who’ve sold their souls to the man!”
“What does everyone over thirty-five think about everyone under thirty-five?” AJ asked.
“That all they do is snapchat and take selfies all day.”
“Are these assessments accurate?”
“Surprisingly so on both counts,” I said.
I took another sip of my java. Bleh. It was rank, but my only source of caffeine. It would have to do.
“Fine,” I said. “We’ll compromise. Johnny Gunhands is thirty-two. Old enough to get some respect from gray haired readers. Young enough that the selfie stick crowd won’t think he’s Methuselah. Can I go on?”
“So in the opening scene, we see a butcher’s knife. A random mobster holds it up in the air and a ray of moonlight glistens off of it. It comes down with a WHACK and then the mobster says, ‘That’s what you get for arresting the boss, see?’”
“SHIT!” Alien Jones cried.
“Oh like you could do any better.”
“No,” AJ said as he nursed his hand. “The mouse. It got white hot and…”
Sparks flew out of the monitor. To our amazement, a foot came out of the screen, then another one, then a torso, arms, and a head.
“What the F%$K is that?” I yelled.
“It’s an e-zombie!” AJ replied.
The monster let loose with a terrifying growl and then lunged at me.
I did what any man trained in martial arts could do.
I performed a round house kick to the beast’s head, knocking it clean off.
It rolled to the floor but it was still alive. It grunted and it’s eyes moved around.
I stepped on it, pressing my foot down until I felt the skull crack under my shoe, the damned creature’s brains going kerplooey.
“I’ve heard about a computer virus but this is ridiculous!” I said. “Who knew that e-zombies were even a thing?”
Alien Jones handed me the space phone.
“There’s an author who knows all there is to know about this.”