n the middle of the gym, a ten foot tall scaffold had been set up. Loose boards on the top served as a rickety, makeshift floor.
Hauser and I stood on the gym floor, waiting for the spectacle to begin.
Hundreds of survivors poured in to observe the competition. They took the top row of seats on each side and then the remaining rows were retracted in so the zombies wouldn’t be able to reach them.
George, the DiStefanos and a few more armed goons took up high positions, guns at the ready to take down any zombies that tried to attack the spectators.
The crowd cheered as the master of ceremonies walked in.
He was Leo McKoy, a wild haired, crazy eyed bum and East Randomtown’s most notorious drunk/barfly.
He’d fashioned a white bed sheet into a toga and carried a ram’s horn, which he blew into as soon as he reached the scaffold.
“Where the hell did you get a shofar?” I asked.
“Bitch, I never leave home without my shofar!” Leo replied.
To say Leo wasn’t right in the head was an understatement. Before the fall of East Randomtown civilization, the cops arrested him every other day for public indecency. He’d spent many a night in the drunk tank.
“Citizens of Fort Hauser!” Leo shouted. “A great accusation has been leveled at Bookshelf Q. Battler. And now, as is our custom, he will prove whether or not he is worthy to stay in our settlement by taking on his accuser! Should BQB defeat Hauser, he will then have defeat an entire zombie horde to win back his life and his freedom.”
“Just going to go on record again as saying a trial with facts and evidence would have been the more civilized approach,” I said.
Leo handed us each a long wooden stick.
“Your weapons!” Leo said. “You will each compete using the ancient bo staff, just like the ninja masters of old!”
“Is this a mop handle?” I asked.
“It’s a bo staff!”
“This IS a mop handle,” I said. “The part where it clips to the mop head is right here!”
“Shit, Battler, must you ruin everything?” Leo asked. “Just like you two ruined my life?”
Leo had a longstanding grudge against Hauser and I.
“I volunteered for this duty as I truly hope that BOTH of you usurping bitches will become zombie food and then I, Leo McKoy, will take my rightful place as East Randomtown’s Most Famous Citizen!”
Doug slapped his forehead.
“Oh for the love of God, Leo. Not the James Van Der Beek story again.”
Leo raised his hand into the air.
“The James Van Der Beek story!” he yelled. “In the year of our lord, I, Leo McKoy, was employed as a delivery driver for Schultz’ Delicatessen, home of the all you can eat cheese platter!”
“I’ve taken that challenge many times,” I said.
“It shows, Man Tits,” Doug said.
“Oh shut up, Mr. Gray Chest Hair.”
“Silence, bitches!” Leo said. “For your better is speaking. I was charged with the task of delivering a reuben sandwich on wheat bread with extra cole slaw, a bag of barbecue potato chips, and a bottle of Sprite to room thirty-one of Motel Nine, just off of Route Twelve.”
“That’s the shittiest area of town,” Hauser said.
“I reached my destination, knocked on the door and what should greet me but the angelic, cherubic face of one James Van Der Beek, who at the time was known for his role as Dawson Leery on the hit WB Network show, Dawson’s Creek. God bless the WB, may it reign supreme for years to come!”
“The WB went off the air years ago,” I said.
“Damnation!” Leo said. “Anyway, I said, ‘Mr. Van Der Beek, I hope you enjoy this reuben sandwich with extra cole slaw and might I add that I think it is bullshit that Joey Potter refuses to give you the love that you so obviously deserve! To wit, Mr. Van Der Beek replied, ‘Yeah buddy, it’s just a TV show.’”
“That story’s crap,” Hauser said. “An in-shape star like James Van Der Beek would never eat a reuben sandwich with extra cole slaw.”
“The man was famished!” Leo replied. “His car broke down and he was waiting for it to be repaired. He hadn’t eaten all day.”
“You do know that it was probably just that guy from the gas station, Ted Bickerstaff, right?” I asked. “That guy looked a lot like James Van Der Beek. He was always going to clubs and passing himself off as Dawson Leery to all the chicks back then.”
Leo lost it.
“HOW DARE YOU QUESTION TO RECOGNIZE JAMES VAN DER BEEK, AMERICA’S TOP HEART THROB TURN OF THE MILLENIUM?”
“Chill out man.”
Leo moved his robe aside and pointed to a signature across his chest. Emblazoned in blank ink, it read, “James Van Der Beek.”
“Behold, the evidence!” Leo said. “I asked Mr. Van Der Beek to sign my chest with a magic marker as proof of our encounter and his kind reply was, ‘Sure man. Whatever it takes to get you out of my face faster.’ I then went straight to the tattoo parlor to have the signature traced over permanently so as to be preserved for the ages.”
“For Christ Sakes, Leo,” Hauser said. “Are we going to get this thing started or what?”
“Hauser!” Leo said. “You got the shit beaten out of you on a cop drama over thirty years ago. What have you done lately?”
Hauser sneered.
“And BQB, you run a WordPress website that attracts the attention of 3.5 readers. So what? I bet half of them are just there to spam your site with comments about discount penis enlargement cream!”
“That’s uh…actually accurate.”
“This,” Leo said, pointing at the signature, “Is the reason why I truly hope both of you asshats will die horrible deaths, for both of you have been vying for the position of East Randomtown’s Most Famous resident for far too long when everyone knows the title belongs to me!”
“I could give a shit,” I said. “It’s all yours.”
“It’s all mine,” Hauser said. “It’s always been mine.”
“Take your positions!” Leo commanded.
Hauser climbed a ladder to the top of the scaffold. I followed. Leo handed our mop handle bo staffs up to us.
“Two nerds enter! One nerd leaves! THAT is the way of…ZOMBIE DOME!”
The crowd went wild.
“This isn’t even a dome,” I said. “It’s a gym.”
“BQB,” Leo said. “Come on…you know? You’re being a turd in the punch bowl.”
Leo held up an air horn.
He pointed to a set of double doors.
“When I give the ceremonial signal, those doors will be opened, and a zombie horde will be set loose! Our competitors will fight to the death and whoever survives shall take on the zombie menace!”
The crowd clapped and stomped their feet.
“Do you bitches have any last words?” Leo asked.
“I will ALWAYS be East Randomtown’s Most Famous Citizen,” Hauser said.
I looked down at Leo.
“Everyone knows that the true heart of Dawson’s Creek was Joshua Jackson in his role as Dawson’s incorrigible troublemaking pal, Pacey Whitter!”
Seething with rage, Leo blared on the air horn.
The double doors open and like a herd of gazelles, the undead creatures charged into the room.
“Shit,” Leo said. “I probably should have gotten to high ground first.”
Those were the drunk’s last words before one of the zombies chomped on his neck.
Bookshelf Battle 