Bookshelf Battle

I tied a string to the locked door handle and carried the other end to the middle of the locker room.

“Call me MacGyver because I’m about to turn something into nothing,” I said.

“You’re going to encourage them to floss?” Alien Jones asked.

“No,” I said, handing the Esteemed Brainy One the string. “You yank on this when I’m in position and as soon as our captors open the door to investigate, I will round house kick them in the face, steal their weapons, and we’ll make a run for it.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” VGRF said.

“Not really,” Alien Jones replied. “Funny story, but that’s actually how the Tardoznians conquered Solano.”

“Not exactly a MacGyver move though,” VGRF said. “MacGyver would take like a paper clip and a milk carton and make a tactical nuke.”

“Does anyone have a better idea?” I asked.

Hearing none, I took a spot next to the door.

Alien Jones yanked the string. The handle rattled a bit.

Everything was quiet for a minute, then from the other side of the door, Carl yelled, “Hey! Stop rattling the handle!”

I looked at Alien Jones and nodded. The little green guy yanked the string again.

“Seriously!” Carl yelled. “That’s mildly annoying! Knock it off!”

Alien Jones yanked the string again.

“Fine!” Carl yelled. “You all want to be a bunch of jerks and make noise all day? Fine by me! Rattle away!”

We gave up.

“OK,” I said. “That was a shit plan.”

“What now?” Blandie asked.

“Sit here and wait for our imminent demise,” I said.

Everyone huddled around Alien Jones’ space phone to watch Netflix.

Bernie hanged back.

“Yo homie, I got yo back.”

“Thanks Bern.”

“Nah G,” the wannabe rapper said. “I been thinkin’ a lot about that shit you said to me back at Price Town. You was mad right yo.”

“I was?”

“Hellz to the yeah,” Bernie said. “I need to get my shiznitty together. Get a day job. Pay my bills and get me a fresh crib so I can work on the Funky Hunks revival in style.”

“I thought I said to give up the Funky Hunks.”

“You was wrong about that, playa,” Bernie said. “It’s Funky Hunks or die as far as I’m concerned. But you’re right. I need a job until that happens. And luckily, thanks to the Internet and technology, I can kick my fresh rhymes and deliver them straight to the public without the middle man.”

“You’ve got a point,” I said. “I run a blog for 3.5 readers. You could probably find 3.5 forty something ladies in blue denim stretch pants who’d appreciate the Funky Hunks’ wholesome style, just as the soccer moms of the past did.”

“Damn straight, sucka,” Bernie said.

He bumped my fist and then we performed an elaborate handshake.

“You still remember our shit?”

“You know it.”

Bernie turned himself into a human beatbox, dropping a beat with his mouth. Then he launched into our signature song, “We Be Recylin.”

WE BE RECYCLIN

MC PLOTZ:

Yo. 1999. It’s Funky Hunk time!

Check it!

You mixed in your cans with a banana peel.

Fool, you why you givin’ Mother Nature a raw ass deal?

Recyclin’ is what you need to do.

To save the world and make a difference too

Bernie paused and handed me an imaginary mic.

I was reluctant at first.  It’d been so long since I picked up the mantle of Read N’ Plenty.  But then I just went for it.

READ N. PLENTY:

Give me the mic!

And let me recite

About the trash in my can that I pack in tight!

I keep the bottles from the cans and the cans away from paper!

We only got one world and it’s up to us how we’ll shape her!

We turned to the group, struck the classic 90’s rapper folded arm pose and said in unison:

Word to Gaia, bitch!

Alien Jones scratched his head, unsure of what to make of the spectacle. Blandie rolled her eyes. VGRF stood up and clapped her hands.

Carl piped in from the other side of the door.

“Are you guys doing that Funky Hunk stuff? Aww, I loved those songs! That’s so cool and non-threatening! Reminds me of the simpler days of my youth! Can you do, “Look Both Ways Before Crossing the Street, Bitch?”

“Umm,” I said. “OK.”

“Cool.”

We heard the door unlock.

“Hold on,” Carl said. “I’m going to come in and watch.”

I ran into position next to the door. We all looked at each other, unable to believe Carl was this stupid.

The hill billy walked through the door and BAM! I round house kicked him right in the face, sending him crashing to the floor.

I grabbed his rifle.

Quickly, we made it to the hallway only to find George and Billy coming up from the other side.

“Damnation!” George said to Billy as soon as he spotted us. “I leave your idiot brother in charge for two seconds and look what happens!!”

George and Billy took a few shots at us. I returned fire. All three of us were terrible shots. NRA memberships were definitely not in our futures.

In the middle of the hallway, there was a door. I grabbed the handle and covered the group as they ran in, sending a hail of suppressing fire at our captors.

I learned that move from watching Video Game Rack Fighter play War Shooter for hours on end.

Finally, when everyone was in, I locked the door.

George and Billy and pounded their fists on it.

“Believe you me,” George yelled. “That ‘aint a room you want to be in, Battler!”

The room was pitch black. We couldn’t see anything.

Groans. Grunts. Ugghs.

“Did you leave one of your pornos going on the space phone?” VGRF asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Um, I mean no, I don’t watch stuff like that.”

“Humans, I sense a problem,” Alien Jones said.

I found the light switch and flicked it.

We were in an empty room filled with at least twenty zombies. They all lunged at us. There wasn’t much room to fend them off.

“Ideas?” VGRF asked.

“The Mayor isn’t ready for you to meet them yet!” George shouted.

I opened the door. My group and I returned to the hallway to find George and Billy pointing their weapons at us.

George locked the door. The zombies on the other end pounded on it.

“They’re for your trial,” George said. “The Mayor’s going to have some fun with you, boy.”

“Can you stop calling me, ‘boy?’” I asked. “No offense, but it makes you sound like you’re from Deliverance.”

George grabbed me by the back of the neck.

“Come on, nerds! Back to the showers with you!”

We were returned to the girls’ locker room. Carl’s knocked out body was collected and we were locked in.

“Try another stunt like that and every last one of you will be executed where you stand!” George warned.

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you, guy who used to cut my hair for five dollars and hand me a lollipop when I was a kid. Good to see the zombie apocalypse has worked its magic on everyone.”

I looked at Alien Jones.

“Do you have to hack it up again?”

“Nope,” the Esteemed Brainy One said as he handed me the space phone. “I just stashed it in my pocket this time. These cargo pants are fun AND functional!”