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Zomcation

Zomcation – Chapter 10

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General Merrick walked across the tarmac flanked by the three members of Phalanx Company, the special ops squad he counted when the chips were down and the situation was dire.

Each soldier was decked out in black body armor. To the general’s right, was squad leader Ava “Red” Kingston. Some might assume her nickname came from her red hair, but in truth, it was from all the blood she spilled on the battlefield. The scar underneath her right eye indicated she’d even spilled some herself.

“Captain,” General said. “I’m not about to tell you how to run your team, but I strongly advise you put aside the petty bullshit with Lieutenant Mackenzie. Find him and get his ass in motion now because you’re going to need the Mack Truck on this one.”

“All due respect sir,” Red replied. “Mack’s a liability. He disobeyed a direct order.”

“Your call,” Merrick said. “I just hope Shitbird One and Shitbird Two over here will be enough.”

Shitbird One was Kirk “Primetime” Ross. He was a handsome man, to say the least. In fact, his drill sergeant in basic training rode him about it incessantly, telling him that he was too pretty to be a soldier, that he looked like he should be on television instead. A master sniper, he’d racked up over three hundred confirmed kills on the battlefield alone.

As for Shitbird Two, Marvin “Slim” Eldridge served as the team’s pilot. He didn’t have much in the way of muscle, but he made up for it with his knife skills. If that didn’t work, his spooky, soul piercing eyes had been known to make enemies think twice about messing with him.

“Can you really blame Mack for trying?” Primetime asked. “I imagine you’re a tough girl to get over.”

“Stow it, Shitbird One,” Red said.

The crew reached a helicopter. Slim jumped into the pilot’s seat. Primetime took a spot in the back.

“The Heretic is a ghost,” Merrick lamented. “Honestly, the best minds have been trying to figure out who he is for years to no avail. No one is sure he is even one person. He might be several, perhaps a mythical leader the Day Zero cult has manufactured to use to communicate with. We’ve tried to track his messages but he’s smart. He knows how to cover his tracks using tech even the experts haven’t begun to master.”

“We’re on the case, general,” Red said.

“I hope so,” the general said. “Because it’s my ass on the line.”

“Your meeting with the president went that well?” Red asked.
“Don’t even get me started,” Merrick said. “Tell me about your informant.”

“I’d rather not, sir,” Red said. “This is someone who has been there for us time and time again. He’s trustworthy but he’s skittish. The fewer people who know about his involvement the better.”

“Understood,” Merrick said.

Red jumped up into the chopper and took a seat. As the helicopter rose into the air, Red and the general traded salutes.

“Godspeed, Phalanx Company,” the general said as he watched the metal bird fly away.

Inside, each squad member put on a headset that allowed them to communicate over the sound of the chopper’s loud, churning blades.

“God I wish I had a set of tits so I could get men to believe everything I say,” Primetime said.

“Oh, don’t worry, general,” Slim said as he mocked Red with a girly voice. “I have a special source and I’ve got it all under control.”

“Shut your suck holes, ass clowns,” Red said as she pulled a tablet out from under her seat. “In his day, Merrick was a better soldier than the three of us combined.”

“We weren’t making fun of you,” Slim said.

“Just your tits,” Primetime added. “And their apparent ability to blind the general to a threat right under his nose.”

“It has nothing to do with my tits, pigs,” Red said as she punched a few numbers into her tablet. “It’s all about trust. And I wouldn’t assume the general’s oblivious until we’re in the clear. He’s a crafty old goat.”

Primetime took a seat next to Red and stared at her tablet as the Heretic appeared on screen.

“Why have you summoned me?” the Heretic asked in his synthesized voice.

“We need to talk about a raise, dick stick,” Red replied.

“Do we?” the Heretic asked. “I thought our business was complete.”

“For the product, yes,” Red said. “But we’ve just been assigned to track your ass down so if you want us to stand down and go get some beers instead, its going to cost you.”

“My, my, my, Ms. Kingston,” the Heretic said. “Aren’t you a delightful little capitalist. I don’t suppose the funds I’ve already sent your way buy me your assistance in this matter?”

“Not when you put out a video to the whole world to announce that you’re up to some shit, mongoloid,” Red said.

“You drive a hard bargain,” the Heretic said. “Shall we say one million each?”

“Two million,” Red replied. “Each.”

“Done,” the Heretic said. “Oh and Ms. Kingston?”

“What?” Red said.

“Don’t go entertaining any thoughts about a double cross, now,” the Heretic said. “We’re all in this together and if it ever turns out we aren’t, I have more than enough evidence to put you and your colleagues in Leavenworth for the rest of your lives.”

“You go down, we go down,” Red said. “Got it. I’ll expect the deposits within the hour.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” the Heretic said. “Heretic, out.”

The transmission ended and Red stowed her tablet under her seat.

“Who do you suppose that creepy little twerp is?” Primetime asked.

“I don’t know,” Red said. “Some stupid teenager on his mother’s laptop for all I know.”

Primetime pulled an orange out of his pocket and started to peel it. “I don’t like all this talk about Leavenworth.”

“There’s not going to be a Leavenworth soon,” Red said. “There’s not going to be much of anything soon.”

“Then why are we breaking nine thousand different Federal laws in the name of cold, sticky cash?” Primetime asked.

“Because there will be a few strongholds we’ll be able to buy our way into,” Red said. “Money will be the name of the game when the world ends.”

“Like it isn’t now,” Primetime rebutted as he pulled off an orange slice and ate it. “And let’s not pretend it will be worth much once all the governments collapse.”

“By then we’ll be sitting pretty,” Red said. “And in a position to protect what’s ours.”

The soldiers sat there for awhile.

“Mack was a good man,” Primetime said. “Sometimes I wish he was still with us.”

“Don’t,” Red replied. “He’d kill us all if he knew what we’ve done.”

“What do you think he’s up to now?” Primetime asked.

“Doing something bad ass for sure,” Red said. “That’s what Mack is all about.”

Tagged horror, zombies

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Zomcation

Zomcation – Chapter 9

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In the election of 2016, the unthinkable happened. Republican billionaire Vincenzo “Vinny” Stugotz of New York made an alliance with Democratic Senator Mildred Pierce, a California lawyer prone to speaking in legalese, to form the first dual party ticket in modern history.

Their deal? They agreed to change positions every four years. Stugotz took the first go around as President with Mildred as VP. In 2020, they were to switch and let Mildred take the helm while Stugotz played second fiddle. Ultimately, they figured this would lead to them both having their hooks sunk into the presidency until 2032.

With nice sounding political promises to work together and heal a divided nation, the Stugotz/Pierce ticket won by a landslide against Democratic and Republican politicians who cried that it was outright blasphemy for members of opposing parties to do anything other than go on live TV and accuse each other of breathing fire, kicking babies and being the second comings of Hitler, all while average Americans sucked it up and accepted no one was ever going to solve any of their problems.

For a month, it seemed like America had turned a corner and that a brighter, more positive future was on the horizon.

But soon, it became crystal clear that Stugotz and Pierce were not going to be able to agree on anything.

It was certainly clear to General Merrick as he sat in the White House Situation Room, as he and other high ranking military men and security advisors sat back and waited for Stugotz and Pierce to resolve their latest bru ha ha.

“So we’re talking zombies, is that it?” Stugotz asked as he ran a comb through his long, luxurious, gravity defying, jet black pompadour. “Because let me tell you, no one would be better at defeating zombies than me, OK? We’re going to go after those zombies big time, you hear me? Big time. They won’t know what hit them. If you’re dead, then under a Stugotz administration, you’ve got to stay dead. No ifs ands or butts, not even some candy and coconuts, capiche?”

Mildred chimed in. “No Vinny, you right-wing fascist…”

“Don’t you ‘right-wing fascist’ me, you feminazi liberal commie,” Stugotz replied. “Go shave your armpits.”

“Look,” Mildred said. “All I’m trying to say is that before we go all crazy and blow up all the zombies, maybe we should just try to see things from the zombies’ point of view. Maybe the zombies aren’t so bad once you get to know them.”

“They’re criminals,” Stugotz said as he pounded his fist on the conference table. “Criminal zombies who won’t stop until all of our brains are devoured.”

“That’s a rather broad brush, isn’t it?” Mildred asked. “Surely there are some zombies who just end up getting confused. I would imagine there are many undead Americans who just want to keep bumping into walls until they figure out how to walk around them that don’t pose a threat to anyone.”

“Keep living in your fantasy world, pinko,” Stugotz said.

“Fine,” Mildred said. “And you can keep being a hateful, closed minded, rabid zombaphobe.”

Sitting next to Merrick was National Security Agency analyst Allan Carver.

“Are they always like this?” Merrick whispered.

“Worse,” Carver whispered back. “This is one of their good days.”

Merrick cleared his throat. “Mister President, Madame Vice-President, if I may…”

“Right,” Stugotz said. “The floor is yours.”

“Thank you, sir,” Merrick said “I’d first like to remind everyone that the debate over what to do with the quote unquote ‘zombies’ is premature due to the fact that there are no reports at this time of zombies being spotted in public.”

“Chop their ugly zombie heads off if you do see any,” Stugotz said.

“No,” Mildred said. “Herd the zombies into a nice holding area and then sign them up for free brain deliveries courtesy of the U.S. government.”

“Oh holy shit, Milly,” Stugotz said. “And where are you going to get the brains?”

“I’m sure if we think about it there are vast brain resources available,” Mildred said. “Goat brains. Sheep brains. Cow brains. Perhaps we can convince people to donate their brains to the hungry zombie cause when they die.”

“Yeah,” Stugotz scoffed. “Like that isn’t going to cost the taxpayer a pretty penny. Build a wall, make the zombies pay for it and bada bing, bada boom, problem solved.”

Merrick cleared his throat to remind his bosses that he was still there. “As I was saying, there are no reports of actual zombies roaming the streets, so I believe it would be prudent to focus on the information we have at this time.”

The general pointed a remote control at the humongous monitor that lined the wall and pushed a button. A paused video featuring the Heretic appeared.

“As we’re all aware,” Merrick said. “The Heretic released a video to the press demanding that the public implore world leaders to give in to the Day Zero cult’s demands.”

“Screw the Heretic,” Stugotz said. “Find him, lock him up, and attach a car battery to his nut sack for the rest of his life.”

Mildred clutched her pearls. “Let’s give him a break. He probably had a rough childhood.”

“Here now is the video that the Heretic sent to the leaders of every nation in the world,” Merrick said as he pushed play.

“Leaders of the world,” the Heretic said. “Your policies driven the masses to lives of crime, fighting over scraps while you all live high off the hog. You support factories that poison our water and pollute our air, all the while encouraging non-stop, reckless consumerism amongst the masses. Instead of talking your problems out, you build bombs capable of leveling entire cities to threaten one another with. Man was not supposed to live this way.”

The screen switched to footage of a cage, where a young, frightened man grabbed the bars and cried for help.

“Please!” the hostage said. “I don’t know who these people are! They just kidnapped me and dragged me here and…oh…oh God.”

A green gas filled the room. The man grabbed his throat and choked, hacked, and wheezed until he finally fell down.

“Sweet merciful crap,” Stugotz said as he watched.

Seconds later, the young man slowly stood up. His eyes were blank. He moved like a mindless automaton.

“As you can see,” the Heretic said in a voiceover, “I am, thanks to incompetent security at one of America’s many black sites, now in possession of the X48 virus, which means I now have the power to fill the world with as many zombies as I please. One whiff and a subject is zombified. Once infected, zombies are able to infect others by biting them so this is all about to get very interesting, isn’t it?”

The zombified man grabbed the bars and furiously bashed his head against them as he growled and snarled.

“Of course,” the Heretic said as his shadow returned to the screen. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Resign from office. Order your armies to stand down. Scuttle your weapons of mass destruction. Shutter all businesses and demolish all structures so that the trees and plants can heal the badly damaged ozone layer and humans are left to revert to the innocent creatures they were always intended to be. For at the end of the day, we all know the chief architects of division amongst the people are you, the leaders of the world who control their citizens as if they are puppets. This will be your only warning. Comply within twenty-four hours or enjoy the zombies.”

Merrick shut off the video.

“Holy shit,” a panicked Mildred said. “Give him whatever he wants!”

“What?” Stugotz said as he made the universally recognized ‘I’m jerking off because what you’re saying is boring me’ gesture. “General, find this guy and shoot him in the face with a nuclear warhead. Nuke him. Nuke his whole family. Nuke all his brothers and sisters and cousins. Nuke his third grade teacher. Nuke his Goddamn cat, dog, hamster, and goldfish. Nuke everyone who has ever spoken a single word to this asshole.”

“I’ve got Phalanx Company working on it as we speak,” Merrick said. “They are, without a doubt, the best of the best.”

“General,” Mildred said. “Is what he said, true? Are we responsible for making this virus?”

Merrick sighed. “I’m afraid so, Ma’am.”

The general punched a button on his remote and a virtual image of a perfectly chiseled muscle man appeared on screen.

“Ten years ago,” Merrick said. “Certain forces in our government saw the writing was on the wall, that Americans were tired of constant wars, and people weren’t as accepting of the idea of a military draft as they used to be. Thus, a desire to create a new army of indestructible, super soldiers was born.”

Merrick hit a button and an image of Professor Goldthwaite popped up. “Ten years ago, Professor Abner Goldthwaite, once a renowned lecturer in the field of neuroscience, became a laughingstock when he published a paper claiming that through a combination of the right chemicals, proteins, bacteria and assorted enzymes, he had created an indestructible rat.”

“I remember that guy on TV,” Mildred said.

“Yes,” Merrick said. “He followed up his paper with videos in which he set the rat on fire, pounded it with a hammer, and even ran over it with his car and yet in each instance, the rat kept on scurrying along. Critics just assumed Abner had used special effects to make the rat look like he wasn’t hurt and thus, Abner became a pariah amongst his fellow scientists, mocked for being a shameless attention seeker.”

“Ahh,” Stugotz said. “So let me guess. You idiots hired him.”

“His rat was the real deal,” Merrick said. “And we hoped Goldthwaite’s research would lead to civilian applications. After all, super soldiers would be great, but super people would be even better. End the ability to cause physical harm to someone and you’ve ended all crime and all wars. Allow humans to live forever and they end up with unlimited time to seek out their hopes and dreams.”

“Dreams, schmeams,” Stugotz said. “It all got cocked up, didn’t it?”

Merrick pushed a button and twenty minutes’ worth of footage of Abner gassing human test subjects only for them to become hideous zombies played.

“Since 2007, Goldthwaite has made forty-eight separate attempts to construct a chemical agent that could turn humans indestructible,” Merrick said. “Alas, what worked in a rat only turns humans into mindless brain chomping bastards.”

“Well good luck with the court martial, dip stick,” Stugotz said as he popped a mint into his mouth.

“Me?” Merrick said. “I was ordered to start this program by one president and instructed to keep it going by another president.”

“I’m the president now and I don’t know a damn thing about this,” Stugotz said. “Mildred, do you know anything about this?”

Mildred coughed. “Ahem. I can categorically state that I do not recall whether or not I may or possibly may not be aware about any information regarding American involvement with the production of a zombifying virus. Further, if I could recall, it would be likely that I could not affirmatively state whether or not I recall due to concerns of national security.”

“God damn, Mildred,” Stugotz said. “You straight up lawyered the ever loving shit out of that one. High five.”

President and Vice-President slapped their hands together. Merrick shook his head.

“Oh great,” Merrick said. “So now you two finally agree on something?”

“Yup,” Mildred said. “If this fiasco gets out of hand…”

“…then its your ass that’s going to be getting it with no vaseline a la Ice Cube’s greatest hits, my friend,” Stugotz said.

Merrick grunted disapprovingly. “Story of my life.”

Tagged Comedy, funny, humor, politics, writing

Zomcation

Zomcation – Chapter 8

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Abby looked at the clock in her mini-van. 6:19 A.M.

“He’s not coming,” Abby said.

“I’m telling you,” Dylan said. “He said he is. Just give him his five minutes.”

Mack emerged from the house in a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, and a pair of sunglasses with a duffel bag slung over his arm.

“Dylan,” Abby said as her brother approached. “How did you pull this off?”

“I just know how to talk to people,” Dylan said.

Abby popped the hatch and Mack stowed his duffel in the back, then walked around to the driver’s side.

“Shall we give the girl soldier a shot at the wheel?” Mack asked.

“It’s your funeral,” Abby said as she snuck through the pass-through to the back seat next to Dylan.

A giddy Paige moved over to the driver’s side as Mack took the passenger’s seat.

Once all doors were closed, Mack made some announcements.

“Family,” Mack said. “Be advised I am not attending this trip out of a desire for fun, recreation or quote unquote ‘having a good time.’”

“Whatever you need to say, Mack,” Abby said.

“I am attending as the world is a dangerous place and the idea of allowing people I am related to venture off unescorted is an untenable situation in my estimation,” Mack said.

“You love cartoon wombats,” Abby snickered.

“I’ll ignore that,” Mack said. “People, this is the point of no return. Has everyone gone to the bathroom?”

“Sir, yes sir,” replied Mack’s family.

“Good,” Mack said. “Because a premature stop would cause an unnecessary delay. Does everyone have all required medications and assorted items the failure of which to pack would bring our excursion to a grinding halt?”

“Sir, yes sir,” the family replied.

“Excellent,” Mack said as he opened up his wallet. “Boy soldier!”

“Sir?” Dylan asked.

Mack passed the boy a twenty dollar bill.

“You have been appointed quarter master of this operation, the man in charge of procuring all necessary goods and materials,” Mack said. “At our first stop, you will procure me a Red Bull and a bag of Funions. Use any remaining currency to procure snacks and drinks for yourself and fellow soldiers. Have I made myself clear?”

“Sir, yes sir,” Dylan sad.

“Sister soldier!” Mack said.

“Will you stop with the ‘soldier’ bit?” Abby asked.

“Now is not the time to descend into chaos, Abby,” Mack said. “You have been appointed as navigator. Keep an eye on your cell phone GPS and make sure we’re headed to our destination using the best routes available.”

“It’s got a GPS right there,” Abby said as she pointed to the monitor at the front of the vehicle. “See?”

“Oh,” Mack said. “Then take a much deserved nap as a reward for all your labors and be rested for when your driving shift comes.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Abby said as she leaned back.

“Girl soldier!”

“Sir?” Paige asked.

“In my career, I have received the requisite training to drive tractor trailer trucks, Humvees, tanks and also to pilot helicopters and all manner of aircraft, light and heavy,” Mack said. “You are now under my command and will be expected to follow my instructions to the letter or be relieved of duty. Have I made myself clear?”

“Sir, yes sir,” Paige said.

“Good,” Mack said. “Take us out.”

Paige immediately put the car in reverse and took her foot off the brake.

“Boom!” Mack shouted.

“What?” Paige asked as she braked.

“You’ve failed to put on your seatbelt,” Mack said. “Had there been a collision, your carcass would have flown through the windshield only to flop around like a fish gasping for air on the hood.”

“Do we need to be that graphic, Mack?” Abby asked.

“The more graphic I am today the less likely she’ll experience such a scenario in the future,” Mack said. “Resume driving, girl soldier.”

Paige started to back out again.

“Boom!” Mack shouted.

“What?!” a frazzled Paige asked.

“You’ve failed to adjust your mirrors,” Mack said.

“I did,” Paige snapped.

“Lies,” Mack replied. “Your mother is taller than you are and has her mirrors set to her liking. You are shorter and if you are unable to see out of your mirrors then it is only a matter of time before you careen this vehicle into another transport and set us all ablaze in an inferno that will seal our doom.”

Paige adjusted her mirrors. “Oh. That is better.”

“Proceed,” Mack said.

Paige did and it wasn’t long before Mack shouted another “Boom!”

“OMG!” Paige shouted as she hit the brake. “What now?”

“You failed to check if anyone was coming on the roadway behind you,” Mack said. “You lucked out this time but had there been a transport, you surely would have killed all of us, all of them, or some combination of us and them. Best case scenario in that situation is you end up badly mangled, recover after years of surgeries and physical therapy, then are forced to live out the rest of your days with the horrendous, agonizing guilt that comes with knowing that your screwup got your family and other innocents killed.”

Paige nodded, checked her mirrors, checked her blindspots, then brought the car out into the road.

“This is going to be a long trip,” Dylan said.

“Mack,” Abby said. “You know she’s never done any highway driving before.”

“Only way to learn is to do it,” Mack replied. “No one taught me how to drive a truck at a hundred miles an hour down a runway as the enemy pilot of an attack helicopter mercilessly deployed a barrage of gunfire and missiles my way. You learn or you die. It’s that simple.”

Paige and Dylan’s eyes lighted up.

“Did that really happen?” Dylan asked.

“That’s classified,” Mack replied.

Tagged driving, horror, trips, vacations, zombies

Zomcation

Zomcation – Chapter 7

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Beep! Beep!

It was a little after dawn and Abby was in her best Chester Chimp t-shirt and sitting behind the wheel of a packed to the gills car, blaring on the horn to get her daughter’s attention. “Paige! Let’s go!”

Ignoring her mother, Paige parsed her lips into a duck-billed smooch and snapped a selfie.

“Come on, Paige,” Abby said. “We’re burning daylight.”

“Just a minute,” Paige said as she uploaded her selfie onto Lifebox. “Hashtag get this party started. Okay.”

Paige hopped into the passenger’s seat. “Can I drive?”

“Maybe when we get to Georgia,” Abby said. “They’ve got those nice roads that go in a straight line forever so it’ll be less likely that you’ll kill us all.”

“Hashtag I’ll never get my license,” Paige said.

“Hashtag its your own fault if you end up walking everywhere,” Abby said.

Dylan popped his ear buds out and poked his head up. “Is Uncle Mack really not coming?”

“Afraid not,” Abby said.

“Hashtag lame,” Paige said.

“Maybe you guys can each send him a nice post card when you get there,” Abby said.

“Can I try one more time?” Dylan asked.

Abby shrugged her shoulders. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.

Dylan jumped out of the car.

“Dill,” Abby said.

“Yeah?” her son replied.

“Don’t be a nudge,” Abby said. “If he says no then say goodbye and that’s the end of it.”

“Okay.”

Dylan walked into the house and found his uncle counting his sit-ups on the floor while watching the news on television.

“Nine hundred ninety eight, nine hundred ninety nine….one thousand.”

Mack wiped the sweat from his brow, guzzled a glass of water, then noticed his nephew.

“Hey,” Mack said. “You forget something?”

“No,” Dylan said. “What are you watching?”

“Ahh,” Mack said. “Just the news. Always some bad shit going down somewhere.”

The screen cut to an ample bosomed blonde reporter sitting behind an anchor’s desk.

“Good morning, Americans. I’m a Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties reporting for Network News One. Our top story today, the anonymous underworld criminal known simply as, “The Heretic” has issued a new communique regarding the Day Zero Cult’s activities.

Next up on the screen was a shadowy figure of a man who spoke using an electronic voice changer. It made his voice sound deep, dark and sinister.

“People of the world,” the Heretic said. “Know that I have given your leaders an important ultimatum, one that they must obey if you are all to survive. I have no desire to start unnecessary panic, so I will not reveal the details of my demands to the public at this time. However, I implore all of you to urge your leaders to do my bidding or else my wrath will be swift and severe. Heretic, out.”

Back at the studio, a mustached man with graying hair joined the female reporter.

“Homeland Security officials refused to answer any questions on this matter,” the reporter said. “But here to shed some light on this story is Network News One Terrorism Analyst Carl Baxter. Carl.”

“Thank you for having me, Hot Ass Blonde Chick,” Carl said.

“No problem,” the reporter replied. “Carl, this is tougher talk than we’re used to hearing from the Heretic, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Carl said. “His typical modus operandi is to mobilize his Day Zero hackers to engage in some type of computerized malfeasance. You remember the time they shut down the stock market for three hours…”

“Or the time they turned off all the lights in Times Square,” the Hot Ass Blonde Chick said.

“Right,” Carl said. “Usually the Heretic will command his tech savvy minions to pull off some misdeed and only after does he release a video to the press taunting law enforcement. This current situation is very different.”

“How so?” the Hot Ass Blonde Chick asked.

“Here, he’s warning something bad is going to happen first,” Carl said. “And you can tell he’s trying to put pressure on the masses to lean on world leaders to do something. What it is, your guess is good as mine.”

“That’s not helpful at all, Carl,” the Hot Ass Blonde Chick said. “Keep talking to fill up this block, will you?”

“Sure,” Carl said. “Now the Day Zero cult, they’re anarchists. They do not believe in law and order. They do not believe in government of any kind. They don’t believe in capitalism or communism or any kind of economic system. The Heretic has been quite clear in his previous videos that he and his followers want the world to regress to the so-called days of Adam and Eve.”

“Adam and Eve?” the Hot Ass Blonde Chick asked.

“Right,” Carl said. “No buildings. No houses. No schools. No factories. No hospitals. No businesses. No order of any kind. They simply want the world to regress to its natural grassy state and for all of mankind to frolic naked amongst the trees as our ancient ancestors did.”

“Sounds fun,” the Hot Ass Blonde Chick said.

“In many ways it would be great,” Carl said. “No more nuclear weapons. No more war. Certainly no more lawyers.”

“I sense a catch,” the Hot Ass Blonde Chick said.

“No more art,” Carl said. “No more music. No more books or movies. No more science or technology. No medicine.”

“We’ll end all threats to life but be left with no reason to live,” the Hot Ass Blonde Chick said.

“That’s a very profound observation, Hot Ass Blonde Chick,” Carl said.

“Should we be worried?” the Hot Ass Blonde Chick asked.

“All the law enforcement sources I’ve spoken to refer to these people as kooks,” Carl said. “Occasionally, they manage to cause the world some grief with their hacking skills, but they’ve yet to graduate to more sinister, physical forms of terrorism.”

“That’s a relief,” the reporter said before turning to the camera. “We’ll stay with this story as it develops. After this commercial break, our Hot Ass Asian Chick with Big Titties will be reporting live from Capitol Hill, where Congress is currently debating House Resolution Seventeen, a bill so complex and complicated no one can understand it, but it will most certainly lead to you contracting anal warts. And later, there’s one item in your refrigerator that can cause you to drop dead if you eat it. Stick with Network News One and we’ll tell you what it is at some point in the next three hours.”

The Network News One logo popped onto the screen, followed by a rugged, manly sounding announcer. “Network News One: The hottest chicks. The biggest titties. Oh yeah, and occasionally we report the news and shit.”

Mack grabbed the remote and shut the TV off, then looked to his nephew. “Shouldn’t you be going?”

Dylan looked down at his uncle and stretched out his hand. “Never leave a soldier behind.”

Mack wasn’t one to cry, but he felt a little choked up by the boy’s gesture. He nodded, then took Dylan’s hand and stood up.

“T-minus five minutes for me to pack my gear, soldier,” Mack said. “Report to the transport.”

Dylan nodded. “Sir, yes sir!”

Tagged Comedy, funny, horror, humor, zombies

Zomcation

Zomcation – Chapter 6

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Mack sat at the kitchen table watching as his nephew arrange his power action ninja soldiers all over the table in a harrowing battle.

“And this one is Doctor Laserface,” Dylan explained. “Because he…

“…shoots lasers out of his face,” Mack said. “Got it.”

“And this one is Wrecker,” Dylan said. “Because he wrecks things.”

“Naturally,” Mack said.

“Then you’ve got Spelunker, Freewave, Battlecaster, Corporal Slice,”

“And these guys are all ninjas?” Mack asked.

“And soldiers,” Dylan replied.

“Makes sense,” Mack said.

“What rank were you?” Dylan asked.

“Were.” That word hit Mack pretty hard.

“Lieutenant,” Mack said. “I was a lieutenant.”

“Cool,” Dylan said as he held up a rather brutish looking action figure that was sporting big muscles and a buzz cut. “Then you’d be this guy. Lieutenant Paine McDanger.”

“Awesome name,” Mack said as he picked up the figure. “And not a bad likeness.”

A flustered Abby buzzed into the kitchen carrying two suitcases. “Dylan, where are your swim trunks?”

“I don’t know,” Dylan said. “Do I need them?”

“Yes you need them,” Abby said.

“I hate swimming,” Dylan said.

“You love swimming,” Abby said. “I won’t be able to keep you from the pool once you get to the hotel.”

“I don’t know,” Dylan said. “The bottom of my closet maybe?”

“Can you just go look?” Abby asked. “The bottom of your closet is a crap covered hellhole I want no part of.”

“OK,” Dylan said as he delicately placed a small, plastic weapon into the hand of one of his figures. “In a minute.”

“Now, Dylan.”

“I said, ‘in a minute!’”

Mack winced at Dylan’s flagrant disregard for authority.

“Mom!” Paige bellowed as she bursted into the kitchen. “Where’s my tablet?”

“I don’t know, Paige,” Abby said. “I’m not the keeper of your electronic gadgets.”

“Well,” Paige set. “This is going to be hashtag the worst trip ever if I can’t live stream everything that happens on Lifebox!”

“All your Lifebox friends are losers,” Dylan said.

“No one asked you, doofus,” Paige said. “And aren’t you a little too old to be playing with baby toys?”

“These aren’t baby toys,” Dylan said as he put one of his ninja soldiers behind the wheel of a plastic truck. “They’re collector’s items.”

“Mom, this is the worst!” Paige complained.

“I don’t know, Paige,” Abby said. “Keep looking and if you can’t find it you can just live stream everything you do with your phone.”

“What?” Paige asked as she held up her phone. “You mean this pathetic little sixteen gig weakling? I need my tablet to tell everyone what I’m doing at all times or I’m going to end up hashtag so yesterday.”

Dylan made explosion sounds as he knocked his toy truck over.

“You know Paige,” Abby said. “When I was a kid people thought you were the worst if you made them look at your vacation pictures.”

“I don’t care what they did in Jurassic times, Mom,” Paige said. “Here in the now I need to make everyone believe that everything I do is awesome or else that see you next Tuesday Heather Haskell will be with Tommy forever.”

Abby scrunched up her face in confusion. “See you next what now?”

“Pew, pew!” Dylan shouted as he made laser noises and knocked his soldiers over one by one. “No one can defeat Doctor Laserface!”

The fighting. The shouting. The silly noises. It all became too much for Mack.

The giant stood up and from the bottom of his gut pushed out the loudest, most visceral, “Atten hut!” his family had ever heard.

All three of his family members stopped what they were doing.

“Not you, Abby,” Mack said as he stood up.

“Oh,” Abby said. “Right.”

Mack clutched his hands behind his back and took on the stance of a drill sergeant.

“Dylan!” Mack shouted. “You will stop playing with your baby toys and you will brave the depths of your crap hole closet and you will not come out until you have located your swim trunks, have I made myself clear?”

“Sir,” Dylan shouted. “Yes, sir!”

The boy instantly ran to his room.

“Paige!” Mack shouted.

“Sir?” Paige replied.

“You will think about where you last used your tablet and you will report to that location and you will no doubt discover it there when you do so,” Mack said.

“OMG,” Paige said as she gave herself a light bonk on the head. “I left it at Kelly’s house next door.”

Paige walked off, leaving Mack and Abby alone.

“You have got to teach me how to do that,” Abby said.

“It’s pretty simple,” Mack said. “Create an aura around yourself that indicates you’re not willing to take shit from anyone.”

Abby shook her head. “I’m not sure I have much to work with here.”

“You do,” Mack said as he sat back down. “You just don’t realize it.”

On the opposite side of the kitchen, there was a desk up against the wall. Abby took a seat and started going through her mail.

“The thing I’ve learned over the past year,” Abby said. “Is that when parents are separated, kids tend to rise to the level of the most carefree parent.”

“Meaning?” Mack asked.

“Meaning,” Abby said as she ripped an envelope open. “Scott picks them up every once in awhile and lets them do anything they want. Thus, when I try to instill some rules they look at me like I have two heads.”

“Not really my place,” Mack said. “But when are you going to get rid of that guy?”

“I don’t know,” Abby said as she crumpled up and tossed a piece of junk mail. “He said he needed some time to find himself. I thought that meant he’d go be by himself for two weeks, but that was a year ago.”

“I never liked him,” Mack said. “Mom and Dad, God rest their souls, never liked him.”

“I understood a little bit where he was coming from,” Abby said. “We were fresh out of high school when I got pregnant with Abby. We were trying to do the right thing by getting married but we were never right together.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Mack said. “Translation: he’s an ass whose lucky to have a wife and kids who love him and he’s too stupid to realize it. Time to find someone who will.”

“Son of a…”

“What?” Mack asked.

Abby sat down at the table and tossed Mack a bill that was replete with ominous red lettering.

“He took out a new credit card in my name!” Abby said.

Mack read the bill out loud. “Eight hundred and eleven dollars at the Gentleman’s Funbag Enthusiast Club…one thousand fifty nine dollars at the Meow Meow Kitty Kat Lounge…two thousand two hundred and four dollars at the Skank Factory?”

At that moment, Abby did something very un-Abby like. She huffed. She puffed. Then she lifted her head up into the air and screamed. “Arrrrrrrghhhhh I hate his stupid face!”

“Time to call a divorce lawyer,” Mack said.

Angry Abby left. Sad Abby took her place. She sobbed. She cried. She moved over and rested her head on her big brother’s shoulder.

“But I still love his stupid face,” Abby said.

“We can’t choose who we love,” Mack said. “Just what we let them to do us.”

“What do you know about it?” Abby asked.

“A thing or two,” Mack answered.

“Classified?” Abby asked.

“Yes,” Mack answered.

“Whatever,” Abby said as she lifted her head up and dried her eyes. “I really wanted us to work. I hoped if I just kept giving him his time and his space that he’d come around but all he ever does is keep asking for more time and more space and now this.”

“I don’t want to tell you what to do, Abby,” Mack said.

“No,” Abby said as she stood up. “I know what to do. I’m going to enjoy Wombat World and then Scott’s ass is gone for good as soon as I get back.”

“Bravo,” Mack said. “You need any help packing?”

“No,” Abby said as she opened up a cabinet above her sink and took out a small, plastic case.

“Dylan’s bee problem never got better?” Mack asked.

“Nope,” Abby said. “He has to carry a shot with him wherever he goes. This is his spare. Figured it’d be good to bring it just in case. Just one more addition to the Lane family’s lifetime bad luck-a-thon.”

“I don’t remember the Mackenzies having it that good either,” Mack said.

Abby hoisted a suitcase up onto the desk, unzipped it, placed Dylan’s shot into it, then zipped it back up. She then took a seat and stared up at a collage of old family photos on the wall.

“We had some good times,” Abby said as she pointed to a photo of her smiling parents.

“Yeah,” Mack said. “But call it God, call it cosmic forces or whatever, but them both coming down with cancer and dying within three years of each other…”

“Not fair,” Abby said.

“I’ve expected nothing to be fair ever since,” Mack said. “And life hasn’t disappointed.”

Abby smiled as she looked over the collage. Christmas photos of a little her and a little Mack opening up presents. Halloween photos with a little her dressed up as Princess Paulina and Mack dressed up as a soldier.

She stopped and tapped her finger on one photo in particular. In the background, there was the gigantic, magnificent Wombataorium, a marvel of modern architecture that was visible for miles, serving as the main attraction of Wombat World.

In the foreground, there was a ten year old Abby wearing a Wombat hat and a “I Love Willy Wombat” T-shirt with a look of sheer, unbridled joy on her face. She was standing next to her fourteen year old brother, Mack, who looked as though he would have rather been anywhere else.

Scrawled underneath the photo in black pen were the words, “Mackenzie trip to Wombat World, 1993.”

“Say, Mack?” Abby said.

“Yeah,” Mack said.

“You remember this?” Abby asked.

Mack stood up, walked over to the desk and looked over his sister’s shoulder at the photo.

He snickered. “Oh yeah.”

Abby dug into her suitcase and pulled out a plastic card with a picture of Ferdinand Ferret’s dopey face.

“I’ve got an extra all-access pass to Wombat World that Scott isn’t going to use,” Abby said.

Mack blinked, unsure of where his sister was going with this.

“And you happen to find yourself unemployed at the moment,” Abby said.

Mack scratched his head. “Oh, no…I don’t think…”

“Why not?” Abby asked.

“It wouldn’t be right,” Mack said.

“It wouldn’t be right to not use this,” Abby said. “It’s not like I can cash it in.”

“This is a place for children,” Mack said.

“They’ve built it up so much since we went there as kids,” Abby said. “They have stuff for adults to do too. They’ve got a Wombat Race Track, a Wombat Ball Park, Wombat Gourmet Restaurants, a Wombat Golf Course. Maybe they’ll let you play if you promise not to blow the course up.”

“Abby,” Mack said. “It’s just that…”

“It’ll be just like the time Dad drove us all down in the station wagon,” Abby said. “Only if you and I take turns we can get there faster.”

“Abby,” Mack repeated. “You don’t understand…”

Mack looked around and realized that the kids had been eavesdropping for awhile.

“Uncle Mack’s coming?” Dylan asked as he handed his mother his smelly swim trunks.

“Yeesh,” Abby said. “These need a wash.”

“Hooray,” Paige said as she hugged her uncle. “Uncle Mack is coming! Hashtag best vacation ever now!”

“Oh right,” Abby said. “Now you say it’s the hashtag best vacation ever now.”

Dylan joined in on the hugging. Mack felt a need to shut it all down quick.

“Kids…kids…enough!”

The kids backed off.

“Thank you,” Mack said. “But I would not be any kind of a man if I went on this trip. I’m out of work and the first thing I need to do tomorrow is to pound the pavement and apply for jobs. No man worth a damn would go on a trip to a park dedicated to a cartoon wombat in my situation.”

“Please?” Dylan asked.

“Pretty please?” Paige asked.

“No,” Mack said. “That’s my final answer. You kids will understand when you’re older.”

“Boo,” Dylan said as he sat down at the table and returned to his power action ninja soldiers.

“Hashtag worst vacation ever again,” Paige said as she handed her tablet over to her mother for packing.

“You know your hashtags really hurt sometimes, Paige,” Abby said.

“Hashtag sorry not sorry,” Paige said as she left the room.

Abby continued packing for awhile. Dylan made more “pew, pew” sounds as he knocked down his soldiers.

“Ack!” Dylan shouted as he knocked his Spelunker figure down on the table. “Spelunker’s down! I gotta go on without him!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mack said.

Dylan stopped playing. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘go on without him?’”

“Spelunker got shot in the leg,” Dylan said. “He’s a goner. He’s just gonna weigh Freewave down.”

“Not on my watch,” Mack said as he picked up Spelunker and leaned him up against Freewave.

The giant then pointed a finger at his nephew. “Listen, kid. Whether its in a dumb game or in real life, you never leave a soldier behind, you got me?”

“I got you,” Dylan said.

“Good,” Mack said as he tussled his nephew’s hair. “Get to bed already. You got a big day tomorrow.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Dylan said as he collected his fingers and left the room.

Abby checked her suitcase one last time, then zipped it up and set it down by the front door.

“You sure I can’t talk you into this?”

“I’m sure,” Mack said.

“Because its not like you’ll be able to find a new job in one week,” Abby said.

“The sooner I get to work on it the sooner it happens,” Mack said.

Abby’s face turned grim. “It’s just that…”

Mack sighed. “I swear I won’t touch it.”

“Alright then,” Abby said.

Tagged Comedy, funny, horror, humor, vacation, zombies

Zomcation

Zomcation – Chapter 5

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Mack had taken his dress uniform out of the dry cleaner’s bag and laid it out on his bed.

He stepped into his pants and zipped them up, then put on his clean white dress shirt. He stared into a mirror as he made sure that he fastened every last button.

Next, he tied his tie and made a perfect knot. He put on his coat and buttoned it, then took a moment to admire the medals pinned to it.

Finally, he put on his beret. The outfit was complete.

The solider inspected himself in the mirror, brushed a bit of lint off of his shoulder, then shouted, “Atten hut!” and snapped to attention.

“Left face!” Mack barked as he snapped his body in perfect time to the left.

“Right face!” was next and Mack quickly snapped to the right.

“Forward!” Mack found himself standing up straight in front of the mirror again. He snapped his right hand up to his temple in a salute then whispered to himself, “At ease.”

The soldier stood there, trembling. He unholstered his service pistol, pressed it up against the side of his head, closed his eyes and clicked off the safety.

His hand shook as he hovered his finger over the trigger. He was thinking about pulling it when he heard a car door slam.

Then he heard some familiar voices.

“Look,” came Abby’s voice from outside. “I don’t need this. You two are going to stop being little monsters for one week and you’re going to have a good time.”

“How can I have a good time now that Tommy is going out with Heather instead of me?” Paige asked. “Hashtag life over.”

“Your life is not hashtag over,” Abby said. “One week at Wombat World and you’ll be saying, ‘Tommy who?’”

“Wombat World is a tool of the man to turn us all into mindless consumers, slowly giving away pieces of our soul to the corrupt and oppressive capitalist state,” Dylan said.

“Maybe,” Abby replied. “But its also fun as all get out so stop complaining. Huh. Weird. Why is Mack’s car here?”

“Shit,” Mack said as he clicked the safety of his pistol on and holstered it.

The soldier shut the door and sat down on the edge of his bed as the voices of his family poured through the house.

“Can’t we just have a nice vacation at home?” Paige asked.

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “I can work on my beatboxing skills.”

“You have no skills,” Abby said. “God, you kids are the worst. When I was your age I would have killed for a trip to Wombat World.”

“When you were our age there was only like three things to do,” Paige said.

Mack lowered his head into his hands and closed his eyes as the voices grew louder.

“That’s not true,” Abby said. “There was at least nine things to do.”

Abby knocked on Mack’s door.

“Mack?”

Mack grunted as his sister creaked the door open. “Are you decent?”

“Yes.”

The door opened all the way. Dylan ran into the room and playfully socked his uncle in the gut. That move would have hurt most people but Mack just shrugged it off.

“Aww sweet, you’ve got your uniform on,” Dylan said. “We gotta play Power Action Ninja Soldier Force.”

“After dinner,” Abby said as she held up a pizza box.

Paige poked her head into Mack’s room. “Unk can you teach me how to drive? Mom can’t handle it.”

“I guess so,” Mack said.

“Thank God,” Paige said as she left. “Hashtag someone knows what they’re doing.”

Abby shook her head in disgust. “Dylan go polish your action power soldiers.”

Dylan instantly corrected his mother. “They’re power action ninja soldiers serving together in a single force.”

“Whatever,” Abby said. “Uncle Mack and I need to talk.”

“OK,” Dylan said as he left the room.

Abby sat down next to her brother and opened up the pizza box to reveal a steaming hot wheel of pepperoni pineapple.

“Some za?” Abby asked.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Mack replied as he took a slice.

Abby took a slice for herself and closed the box. Brother and sister sat there for awhile, silently chewing and avoiding talking to each other.

Finally, Abby gave in. “So, you were supposed to be working until five.”

“Yup,” Mack said.

“I take it another job has bitten the dust?” Abby asked.

“You take it correctly,” Mack said.

“What happened this time?”

“I shared one of my stories,” Mack said.

“Oh,” Abby said. “No wonder.”

“To an eight year old kid,” Mack said.

“Oh God,” Abby said.

Abby pulled a crispy piece of pepperoni off of her slice and ate it. “So to recap…”

“Do we need to recap?” Mack asked.

“To recap,” Abby said. “There was the car wash where an engine backfired and you tackled your boss to the ground because you thought it was an ambush.”

“Right,” Mack said.

“Then there was the job at Price Town, which was going well until you told an old lady which common household items she should stock up on and how to use them to kill intruders,” Abby said.

“In my defense,” Mack said. “She asked.”

“The deli where your co-workers accused you of looking way too happy while you were slicing the ham,” Abby said.

Mac had finished his slice of pizza and started working on the crust. “Trumped up charges if I ever heard them.”

“The club where the patrons accused you of bouncing too hard,” Abby said.

“Had they not started shit they wouldn’t have been bounced at all,” Mac replied.

“And the groundskeeper gig you went way too overboard on,” Abby said.

“Squirrels are no match for C-4,” Mack said.

“You blew up a golf course, dumb ass,” Abby said.

Brother and sister each grabbed a second slice.

“So,” Abby said. “I can’t help but notice that you’re wearing your dress uniform.”

“Just wanted to take it out of mothballs to see if it still fits,” Mack said.

“I’d believe that if it weren’t for the gun on your hip,” Abby said.

“You have to take them out once in awhile and clean them or they get rusty,” Mack said.

“Bullshit,” Abby said. “I’ve seen Scent of a Woman, Mack and I know perfectly well what you were up to.”

“You do?” Mack said as he took a bite of his pizza.

“Yes,” Abby said. “And I think it sucks. These kids love you, you know.”

“I know,” Mack said. “I’m not sure I was even going to do it. Sometimes it just helps to know its an option.

“But…why?” Abby asked. “Why would you even entertain such a thought?”

“This,” Mack said as he looked around the bare room. “This isn’t a man’s life.”

“What?” Abby asked.

“Outside of America there’s a whole world that’s a pile of shit,” Mack said. “People are suffering. My fellow soldiers are dying. I’m not able to do the one thing I’m good at.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” Abby asked.

“Can’t,” Mack said. “Classified.”

“Come on,” Abby said. “Something embarrassing happened, right? You got drunk and brought a hooker to the base or something?”

“No,” Mack said. “And thanks for thinking so highly of me.”

“Well I don’t know,” Abby said.

“You’re not cleared to know,” Mack replied.

Abby scoffed. “Fine. But you have got to figure out how to make it as a civilian.”

“I can’t,” Mack said. “There’s no one like me in the civilian world that I can relate to. No one has done the things I’ve done, seen the shit I’ve seen. No one at a regular job understands me and I can’t do any security contracting because of the bogus dishonorable discharge, which I assure you, was completely undeserved.”

“And I trust you enough to take your word for it,” Abby said. “And you know you’re welcome to be here for as long as you need to be.”

“Thanks,” Mack said. “But real men pay their own way. Real men have their own homes. Real men…”

“The kids listen to you when you tell them to do something and the house has never been cleaner since you moved in,” Abby said. “That’s payment enough.”

“It’s not enough for me,” Mack said.

Abby stood up and held her hand out.

“What?”

Abby flexed her fingers toward herself.

“A soldier never surrenders his sidearm,” Mack said.

“He does if he wants to keep staying here,” Abby said. “I don’t need the kids coming home to your blown out brains one of these days.”

Mack grimaced then stood up. He popped the bullet out of the chamber, took out the clip, and handed it all to his sister.

Abby reached into Mack’s closet, took out a lock box, and locked the gun and parts inside.

“This stays in my room for awhile until you’ve got it together,” Abby said. “Understood?”

“Understood,” Mack grumbled.

“Good,” Abby said. “Now come hang out with the kids. You’re not going to see them for a whole week.”

Tagged amwriting, books, family, horror, zombies

Zomcation

Zomcation – Chapter 4

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Paige was sixteen years old with a mouth full of braces and hair that was best described as “frizz bomb aftermath.” She’d tried shampoo, conditioner, various sprays but nothing could tame her locks. Even though she had her hair pulled back in a pony tail, strand after strand had managed to escape and reach for the sky.

But that, much to her mother’s dismay, didn’t stop her from pursuing a social life.

“O…M…G…” Paige said into her blue tooth headset as she completely ignored the road. “Oh to the M to the friggin’ G, Becky, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Paige,” Abby said from the passenger’s seat as she monitored her daughter/student driver, “You’ve got to watch what you’re doing.”

“And then Bobby said what?” Paige asked. “No! Shut up! He did not. He did? Hashtag classic Bobby.”

Paige’s brother, fourteen-year old Dylan, sat in the back seat. The black hair undernath his backwards ball cap was long and it covered the buds in his ears. The boy loved his music and he lost himself as he repeated the lyrics to a rap song from his favorite artist, the controversial gangster rapper Stank Daddy.

“Bitch,” Dylan rapped. “What makes you think I won’t cut a bitch? Chop yo’ head off, leave yo’ ass lyin’ in a ditch…”

“You know I thought Justin and Laura were acting way too buddy buddy lately,” Paige said to her friend through her blue tooth. “But they’re totes official now? Wow…are we calling them ‘Jaura’ or ‘Lustin?’ Right. Jaura because Lustin would be way too dirty. OMG Jaura is so going to be trending on Lifebox…”

Abby’s stomach did backflips as she noticed a stop sign coming up that her daughter was completely oblivious to.

“Paige…”

“And who is Judy to be even complaining about this?” Paige asked her friend. “She was all like, ‘Justin is so twenty sixteen’ but now that she sees him with another girl she’s all like totes sad hashtag whining like Adele.”

“Paige…”

Dylan was of no help. “Set yo’ ass on fire, bitch, run yo’ ass over with my tires, bitch…”

The stop sign had officially become way too close. “PAIGE!”

“Oh my God!” Paige squawked to her mother, “What?!”

Paige followed her mother’s pointing finger until she too finally saw the stop sign. She jammed on the breaks, knocking Dylan ass over teakettle until he landed on the floor. The car was stopped just in time to narrowly avoid being creamed by a pick-up truck whose driver honked angrily at Paige.

“OMG,” Paige said to her friend. “I almost got run over by the worst driver ever.”

“Dylan,” Abby said. “Are you ok?”

There was an unusual amount of quiet in the back seat until Dylan finally popped his head up, flashed a gang sign and proudly declared, “thug life baby!”

“Paige,” Abby said. “Hang up the phone.”

“Oh God,” Paige said as she rolled her eyes. “Becky I have to call you back. Yeah. I know. Hashtag drama.”

“Look both ways,” Abby said. Paige did so.

“Move,” Abby said.

Paige took the car through the intersection and was on her best behavior when Abby ordered her to pull over.

“Oh come on.”

“Now,” Abby said.

Paige did as instructed. Abby got out and walked around the front of the car as Paige scooched over to the driver’s seat.

Dylan took a break from his rapping to make an observation. “Women drivers. No survivors.”

“Shut up douche face,” was Paige’s response.

“Make me, brace face,” was Dylan’s one-up.

Abby got in and took the wheel.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this to me,” Paige said.

“Because,” Abby said as she checked her blind spot and rolled out onto the street. “You almost got us killed.”

“Come on,” Paige said. “That could have happened to anyone.”

“Anyone who’s talking nonsense to her friends on the phone instead of paying attention, yes,” Abby lectured.

Dylan returned to his rapping. “Bitch don’t you know that I’ll blow yo’ ass sky high? Blak ka ka kat goes my nine when I do a drive by…”

“Dylan,” Abby said. “What are you listening to?”

The boy ignored his mother and kept rapping.

“How am I supposed to get my driver’s license if I don’t get any time behind the wheel?” Paige asked.

“When you’re ready to listen to me, you get all the time you want,” Abby said.

“Whatever,” Paige said as she folded her arms and stared out the passenger’s side window. Hashtag Hitler mom.”

“Did you just verbally hashtag me?” Abby asked.

“Hashtag maybe,” Paige replied.

“Bitch you know I’m strapped,” Dylan rapped. “Got an AK-47 and a big ass bat…”

“Dylan!” Abby shouted.

“What?” Dylan whined as he popped out his ear buds.

“What are you listening to?” Abby asked.

“Stank Daddy,” Dylan said.

“I don’t like it,” Abby said.

“Then you’re racist,” Dylan replied.

Abby felt her blood pressure boil. “Excuse me, young man?”

“You don’t like Stank Daddy because he’s black,” Dylan said.

“I beg your pardon?” Abby said. “I’ll have you know I voted for Obama twice.”

“So?” Dylan asked.

“So I don’t like Stank Daddy because he talks about chopping up bitches and blowing them up and so on,” Abby said. “Those are very violent lyrics and ‘bitch’ is not a nice word to use to refer to women.”

“He’s not using ‘bitch’ in the female sense but rather as a term to emasculate the various societal forces that want to keep him down due to his blackness,” Dylan explained. “And you wouldn’t be complaining if some white bread country ass turkey like John Denver Michael Mellencamp Bolton or whoever was talking about blowing up bitches.”

“I certainly would,” Abby said.

Dylan shook his head and popped his buds back into his ears. “A phony ass cracka like you just wouldn’t understand.”

Abby felt all the energy drain out of her body as she took a right and headed for home. “Hashtag worst kids ever.”

Tagged amwriting, books, families, horror, kids, music, rap, zombies

Zomcation

Zomcation – Chapter 3

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At times like these, Abby needed princesses.

She opened her desk drawer and found her collection of animated princess films, all produced by Carruthers Brothers Amalgamated Studios, the parent company of Wombat World.

Abby thumbed through the plastic DVD cases. There was Princesses Forever, The Happy Princess, Princesses vs. Unicorns, Sally Sloane: Undercover Princess, Princess Force, Princess Power, The Puppy Princess, The Princess of Vamagaroon and Princess Party, just to name a few.

The Princess and the Witch was Abby’s personal favorite. She took the disc out of the case, popped it into her computer, and put on her headphones. The library was still using those big oversized ones from the 1980s.

An instrumental number played over the credits as an old fashioned 1930s era announcer read them allowed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the Carruthers Brothers are proud to present, The Princess and the Witch, now in fabulous technicolor!”

The opening scene featured a bright eyed blonde princess in a pink dress brushing her hair in front of a mirror. She looked rather sullen and spoke in a Marilyn Monroe-esque baby doll voice.

“Oh, I’ve been ever so lonely ever since that nasty old witch locked me away in this tower! Perhaps if I sing loud enough my friends will come visit me.”

The princess stood up, walked over to a window and began to sing. “Tra la la la la, tra la la la la! Animals of the forest, how I miss you!”

With that, a flock of adorable chirping blue jays flew through the window, carrying Chester Chimp and Ferdinand Ferret with them.

Chester Chimp wore a yellow plaid coat and an orange bow tie, but no pants. Ferdinand wore a pair of trousers over the bottom half of his elongated body, but no shirt.

“Lord have mercy,” Chester Chimp said. “Princess Paulina, did that dirty old witch lock you up again?”

“She sure did Chester,” Paulina said. “What ever will I do now?”

“Probably just sit here until you rot,” Ferdinand said. “Everyone knows that dames are useless.”

Abby frowned but then she remembered this was a 1930s film and powered through it.

“Perhaps if you call upon your fairy wombat,” Chester said.

“My fairy wombat?” Princess Paulina asked. “What’s that?”

“He’s not a what,” Chester said. “He’s a ‘who.’ Everyone has one and yours will help you.”

“Well,” Princess Paulina said. “How do I call him?”

Chester pulled a violin out of his pocket, which made no sense, seeing as how his pockets weren’t big enough to hold a violin. He then broke out into a musical number.

“If you’re face has a frown, and you’re feeling down, call your fairy wombat…”

“My fairy wombat?” the princess sang in response.

“Oh if you’re locked up by a witch, who is a big stupid…meany…call your fairy wombat!”

Princess Paulina smiled. “My fairy wombat!”

Ferdinand pulled a flute out of nowhere, tooted it, then joined in. “If you’re down for the count, and your woes are starting to mount, call your fairy wombat!”

Chester brought the diddy home. “If you’re up against the wall, there’s no one better to call than your fairy wombat!”

Poof! A gust of smoke swirled around the center of the room then disappeared to reveal a rather goofy looking character – a chubby little googly eyed fur ball with a set of wings that had been stapled onto his back and a cone shaped hat on his head.

“Did somebody call for a fairy wombat?” the little guy asked.

“I did!” Princess Paulina said as she raised her hand.

“Glad to meet you, princess,” the wombat said. “Willy the Wombat’s my name. Getting folks out of a jam is my game. What can I do you for?”

“A mean old witch has locked me in this tower and I’ll never be able to get out on my own,” the princess said.

“Of course you won’t,” Willy said. “You’re a woman and as we all know, the only thing slower than a woman is a bag of molasses in January.”

Abby winced but kept watching.

“Sister, what you need is a man,” Willy said.

“A man?” Princess Paulina asked.

“A big strong handsome prince to do all the thinking for you on account of your feeble female brain.”

“Ugh,” Abby said.

“A handsome prince?” Princess Paulina asked. “Your really mean it?”

“I really do,” Willy said as he waved his magic wand. “Abracadabra, hocus pocus, hippitty dippitty do, a prince I present to you!”

Poof! Another smoke cloud. This time it disappeared to reveal a handsome prince with an impressive physique and a walnut cracking jaw.

“Did someone call for a prince?” the prince asked.

“Me!” the bubbly princess said. “I did!”

“Princess Paulina,” Willy said. “I present to you, Prince Handsome. He’s a super rich stud muffin who will do all your thinking for you from now on.”

“Oh thank goodness,” the princess said. “I so hate to think.”

“Princess,” Prince Handsome said. “You are by far the most beautiful princess in all the land but tell me, why are you so sad?”

“A witch has locked me in this tower and I can’t figure out how to escape,” Princess Paulina said.

The prince walked to the door, turned the knob, and sure enough, it opened.

“Now why didn’t I think to do that?” Princess Paulina asked.

“Because you’re a woman!” Chester declared.

All the characters grabbed their bellies and laughed and laughed and laughed.

“Hoo wee!” Willy said. “Broads sure are dumb.”

Abby turned the movie off, ejected the disc, and put it back in its case.

“They really need to update this.”

Abby’s cell phone buzzed. She looked at the screen. It simply read, “My Prince.” It was a pet name she’d listed husband down as in her phone contacts during happier days.

“Scott?”

“‘Sup babe.”

Abby felt her heart flutter. Scott had moved out a year ago. They kept in touch once in awhile over stuff involving the kids but Abby hadn’t heard from him in a month.

“Not much,” Abby said. “What uh…what’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Scott said. “You good?”

“Me?” Abby asked. “Oh yeah. Real good.”

“Kids?” Scott asked.

“They’re good,” Abby said. “They’re looking forward to Wombat World.”

There was a long pause.

“Oh I forgot about that.”

“Yeah,” Abby said. “Umm…you know…”

“What?” Scott asked.

“I mean we planned this trip so long ago and your park pass is non-refundable so if you wanted…”

“Ahh no,” Scott said. “Can’t, babe.”

“OK,” Abby said.

“Still need my ‘me’ time, you know?” Scott said.

Abby sighed. “I know.”

“Cool,” Scott said. “What’s up with this orthodontist bill you sent me?”

“Oh,” Abby said. “You said you were going to help with the kids.”

“Five hundred bucks?” Scott said. “Shit, I could just go at Paige’s teeth with a pair of pliers and a wrench for free.”

“That’s….not really that funny,” Abby said.

“Yeah,” Scott said. “Well, I don’t know babe but I can’t help you with this. I’m broke.”

“You’re broke?” Abby asked.

“Yup,” Scott said.

“That’s funny because Dylan said when you picked him up and took him out for the day two months ago you were driving a fancy new sports car…”
Long pause.

“Abs, you’re really harshing my mellow…”

“I’m sorry,” Abby said, reflexively.

“Every time you get like this I feel like I need more ‘me’ time, you know?”

“I know.”

“You can’t really expect me to find myself while you’re always nagging me, can you?” Scott asked.

“I suppose not,” Abby said.

“Cool,” Scott said. “OK babe. I gotta run.”

“Scott,” Abby said.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you’ll be finding yourself anytime soon?” Abby asked.

“I don’t know, babe,” Scott replied. “Its a whole process. Later.”

Click.

Abby went into her contacts and changed Scott’s pet name from “My Prince” to “Assface.”

“My prince my ass,” she said.

Tagged Comedy, divorce, funny, horror, humor, love, romance, zombies