The Zoloft Zombie

So..

Dolly's sitting there. She's drinking coffee out of a plastic Josie And The Pussycats mug that she paid way too much for on E-Bay but it's got the figures from the cartoons on it and it's a nice shade of blue, so she just had to own it, and she's eating a cheese danish while skimming over e-mails. Mainly it's the usual stuff, "How do i get a copy of the new midwife crisis CD?", "Do you guys really drink those Hungry Brain drinks?", "Where is the Toxic Factory located?", that kind of thing. She double clicks one of the icons for the form responses on her desktop, copies the text, pastes it in the message and hits send. No big deal in the least.

One of the e-mails looks a little strange though. It's a forward from an Alice Cooper BBS about the "Eyes Of Alice Cooper" album. It's written without any capital letters, is spelled wrong in a couple of places, and it's signed Frank Sandbeans. That name sounds familiar so she picks up the phone and calls Delany's office.

***

Skeets Delany, one of the founders of Toxic Media actually lived in the building full time. He spent most of his time there anyway, hated driving, and was very fond of saying, "What the fuck?". In fact he was saying it at the exact moment that his phone rang, and I do mean "rang".

One night, while at a bath tile convention in Sheboygan he noticed that the phone on the nightstand was an old model with a dial on the front. Being both a rather artsy guy and about thirty points beyond drunk on the old booze-o-meter he did the only rational thing his well lubricated mind could think of doing.

He stole it.

As he was also very fond of saying, "Shit, man! Who wouldn't?".

Delany gave up on trying to finish the TV Guide crossword puzzle on his desk, a hobby that he had found nearly impossible to do since around 2003, at which time the puzzles had become so hard to complete that the only way he could was to go on line and Google for the answers. He had figured that that was why the puzzles had gotten so hard in the first place. Assholes Googling the answers had made the whole process of doing the puzzles so simple that TV Guide had to hire some kind of mutant video freak to create them.

He was pondering 19 Down: "George ______ Cheung of 'Six O'Clock Follies'" and said, "What the fuck?", at the exact moment that the phone rang. He threw the magazine out of his office window and answered it.

***

What follows is a transcript of that conversation.

S: Yeah.

D: Skeets?

S: None other. What's up, Doll?

D: I've got an e-mail from a guy named Frank Sandbeans.

S: Wow! I'll be right there!

***

I never said that it was an interesting conversation.

the team from "the department" are gonna capture the zombie, take it out to nowheresville nevada, and (since it's a totally new strain of zombieisim having nothing to do with the venus probe, 245 trioxin, chemical waste, or solanum) they're gonna radiate it to try to cure it.

BAD IDEA!

ever seen any old 50's monster movies?
i think you can guess where i'm headed here...

i gotta figure out the details but it should be pretty fucking funny.

The coded message to Toxic Media is posted here by frank_sandbeans. It refers to a level 4 zombie outbreak in Westwood. The story on the news was a lie.

There is an unmarked office building somewhere in Los Angeles. It is the home of Toxic Media, a small multi-media company that is on its last legs.

Thirty-six people work there, trying to save it from a miserable and crushing demise.

At least that is what one is lead to believe.

The truth be told, it is, in all honesty the cover for an amazingly secret branch of The United States Government called The Department. Less than half of the men and women who make their living there have the slightest clue that this is the case, the cover story being that much of a secret. It is a secret so sacred and strange that most of what you have just read is a lie. I'm sorry about that but, seeing as to how I fear for my life you're just going to have to put up with it. Please forgive me. I have no other choice.

***

Dolly Lamma, the receptionist at Toxic Media was one of the few people who knew of The Department's existence. In addition to the many secretarial duties she dealt with on a daily basis she covertly monitored incoming e-mail from agents in the field. These e-mails were always written in a coded language, a language that she had no understanding of. All she knew was that when an e-mail came in from a name on a list that she had committed to memory she was to inform one of her superiors. It was a simple job and it paid well.

Fortified with re-writes!
Stays crunchy even in blood!
Ax for it by name!


zoloftzombie

(NOTE: I first thought of "Wouldn't It Be Nice", the old Beach Boys tune, but that was used in both "Shampoo" and "Roger And Me" so I had to come up with something else. Bowie's cover of "God Only Knows" seemed a bit pretentious and "Birdhouse In Your Soul" is a little too goofy (I do love that song though). I decided on "She's An Angel" off of They Might Be Giants first album. I wont apologize for the sappyness as the following both sounds and looks great in my mind.)

FADE IN

MONTAGE

"She's An Angel", a song by They Might Be Giants Begins.

The following is a collection of shots that we see, constructed quite like a video.

hatsuchi wakes up. She gets out of bed and shuffles off toward the bathroom. Chopra's ghost, who looks sort of like Casper is watching Kim Possible on a TV in the bedroom. As she passes him she sticks her hand out to receive a high five. His ghost hand passes through her human one. They both laugh.

She is sitting at the kitchen table, eating waffles for breakfast. The ghost takes a glass of orange juice and drinks it. It pools in his stomach like water in a fish bowl. She laughs.

She is walking her dog, the ghost floating along with her. She answers her cell phone and hands the ghost the leash. The dog takes off running, dragging the ghost along in the air. The ghost's mouth is wide open in a prolonged scream and his eyes are huge. She doubles over laughing.

She is driving along the street with the ghost riding shotgun. She stops at a stoplight and starts to tear up. The ghost notices this. She notices the ghost watching her and points out the window. Her old boyfriend is walking hand in hand with some bimbo. The ghost closes his eyes and concentrates. He starts to disappear as he floats through the body of the car, becoming totally invisible on his way to the old boyfriend. The back of the old boyfriend's underwear is yanked up by the ghost, giving the guy a huge wedgie. She beats her fists on the steering wheel, laughing her ass off.

They are sitting together playing a video game. She takes a bite off a slice of pizza and a bit of sauce dribbles on her chin. The ghost shakes his right hand a few times and it takes the shape of a dishcloth. He wipes off the sauce. She smiles.

They are laying on the bed watching "Night Of The Lepus" together. The ghost is laughing very hard and pointing at the giant bunnies on the TV screen. She looks at him as if only someone who is insane could laugh at something like that. He places his ghost hand inside her waist and wiggles it. She falls over laughing, the victim of the world's first ever interior tickle.

The ghost is floating in the air watching an infomercial with the lights down low. He looks over and watches her sleeping. She stirs a bit as if shivering. The ghost floats over the bed and flattens himself out, becoming a blanket with a ghost head. He drapes himself over her and she snuggles a bit, smiling in her sleep. The ghost rests his head on her shoulder and closes his eyes, falling asleep by the light of the TV.

SLOW FADE TO BLACK


TO BE CONTINUED...


(OTHER NOTE: Actually maybe this is a bit too sappy after all. If you'd like feel free to add the part wherein, being invisible he watches her dance around the bedroom naked. You know, or not...)

The next installment is going to be on the sweet side. It's about how the chopra ghost is haunting hatsuchi (but in a friendly way. like Casper). See, when d.cat killed himself his soul (spirit, energy, life force, whatever you'd personally like to call it) left his body. It was headed toward the light but changed its mind and flew to Florida instead, where it is now hanging out with hatsuchi and making her laugh.

I don't know a whole lot about her life in her bedroom except for pictures that she has posted from time to time so I'll have to make most of it up. I made up some of the stuff about sunnycrittenden and you didn't notice though, so I'm thinking everything will work out okay.

I do know this:

A couple of years ago somebody had sent her a mirrorball that they had made by hand. It was about the size of a grapefruit and looked very cool indeed. I have no idea what happened to it but, for the purpose of this story it is hanging from the ceiling ("I" before "E" my ass) in a corner of her room.

REMEMBER THIS MIRRORBALL.

IT WILL BE IMPORTANT LATER.

(in cinematic terms you have just witnessed what is called "foreshadowing". use it wisely.)

And remember:

What you read here is fiction.


(OH! And, don't worry freyareborn! You'll be in here somewhere too. I just have to figure out how.)

EXT. WESTWOOD - NIGHT

People are milling about. Waiting in line to see romantic comedy movies starring actors and actresses from lame sit-coms, drinking coffee with soy milk, eating blue corn tortilla chips, talking about the DVD players in their SUV's, bothering innocent people by chatting about nothing of the slightest importance on their cell phones, etc.

It's just another regular night in Normaltown.

A few people start to notice something off in the distance.

A couple of them point at it.

We slowly become aware of it ourselves.

A very battered L.A. city bus is being chased by five cop cars. There are actually some cops hanging out of the windows of these cars. These cops are shooting at the bus. One of the cars gets close enough and a cop shoots out the left rear tire of the bus with a shotgun. The bus swerves to the right and jumps the curb, falling on its right side and sliding to a stop by crashing into a building. It squashes, slides over, and into at least twenty five people.

They all die in a flood of bloody make-up effects.

"Jump Into The Fire", a song by Harry Nilsson begins.

The cop cars come to a stop and the cops get out and approach the bus, guns at the ready.

The windows of the bus crack as someone (or... some THING!) batters at them from the inside.

The cops start to fire their weapons.

The bus windows break out and thirty five or forty zombies climb out of the wreckage and attack the cops. Face ripping, neck chewing, head smashing, limb tearing, eye gouging, women screaming, useless gun shooting, pretty much everything you've ever wanted from a zombie movie, and more happens before your very eyes. It's a seven minute sequence that lasts as long as the song does. It's a goddamn video for rock 'n' roll fans of the undead. From this day forth, whenever zombie freaks talk about their favorite movies this scene is mentioned. More often than not in hushed and reverent tones.

After the song fades out there is nothing but mayhem. People running this way and that. Some of the dead rise as zombies and attack others. People fighting each other for cars so they can escape. It looks like the end of the entire fucking world.

d.cat strolls through the destruction with a huge smile, looking this way and that. He actually seems happy.

No one notices or interacts with him.

It is as if he isn't really even there.

He speaks to the camera.

D.CAT
Is this great or what? I wrote the fall of Westwood! I mean, look at this shit!

A guy on fire runs past him, screaming.

He is chased by a zombie, also on fire, grunting.

D.CAT
I just thought of that! Writing kicks ass! Stay in fuckin' school, kids! Tell 'em your uncle cat sent ya!

He sidesteps.

D.CAT
Whoops!

A station wagon just misses him, crashing into a store window and bursting into flames in a nice sized explosion.

D.CAT
That one almost got me!

He thinks for a moment then points to his left.

D.CAT
If you go a block over you'll see the National Theatre. It's my favorite theatre in the whole world. I saw "The Exorcist" there. "Phantom Of The Paradise" too. And "The Wrath Of Kahn". All during their first runs. I love that place but...

There is a dead cop draped over the back of a bus bench. d.cat takes the cop's gun out of its holster and fires it into to the air without even looking up.

D.CAT
Check this out!

CUT TO:

INT. HELICOPTER

Donald Trump, Star Jones, and Joan Rivers are flying over Westwood. A single bullet pierces the bottom of the 'copter and enters the jaw of the pilot, exiting through the top of his head. He instantly dies and falls forward, pushing the stick all the way. The three show business figures scream bloody murder as the 'copter speeds toward the ground.

EXT. THE NATIONAL THEATRE

There is a large oil tanker truck parked in front of the building.

The helicopter crashes into it.

We can see the building from high above the street. The tanker truck explodes, taking out the entire city block. No miniatures. No CGI. The whole block actually explodes in a huge fireball.

BACK TO D.CAT

He's laughing and whooping.

D.CAT
WOAH YEAH!!! FUCK YEAH!!! MOTHER FUCKING YEAH!!! THAT'S MOTHER FUCKING CINEMA, MOTHER FUCKERS!!! WHOO MOTHER FUCKING HOO YEAH!!! FUCK!!!

EXT. WILSHIRE BLVD.

The chopra zombie is walking west.

A burning car flies into the shot behind him.

It crashes through a plate glass window.

It explodes.

The zombie doesn't notice.



TO BE CONTINUED...

1) There is a small college town near UCLA called Westwood. Not only is it the literally the home of some of the most state of the art motion picture theatres on the surface of the entire planet, it's also a place where I had spent a large part of my life while growing up. Used record stores, pizza parlors, book shops, it's all there. It's a great chunk of land.

2) Pete Townshend once said, "I smash guitars because I like them."

I'm telling you these two things because, when I pretty much burn Westwood to the ground in the next installment you will be aware that I am holding no grudges against the town or anything that it represents. I'm only indulging in the possibilities of horror fiction.

Thank you.


(I have stolen the idea of teasing you with this post from the "Arthur bruised his arm" part of Douglas Adams' Hitch Hiker's saga. I miss the guy's work. He was a god with shoes.)

go to toastedwry...