No, they were definitely both zombies. We could smell 'em. Plus, they were both doing the Thriller dance, which was kind of odd, really...
Miscellaneous Street - The Soap Opera
- Thread starter Miss Chicken
- Start date
Our local tramp has a powerful smell to him - that why I think that the zombie didn't attack him because it thought he was a zombie too. Either that, or it sensed that his brain wasn't good enough to be eaten.
Trust me, we're trained zombie smellers. Tramp smell is completely different.
MLB goes off looking for the tramp, just to make sure. Several minutes of searching produced no results, until...
Bingo! MLB finds the tramp in a nearby bush, clutching the battered remnants of a Texas Rangers cap and muttering incoherently.
MLB goes off looking for the tramp, just to make sure. Several minutes of searching produced no results, until...
Bingo! MLB finds the tramp in a nearby bush, clutching the battered remnants of a Texas Rangers cap and muttering incoherently.
Unfortunately, that was the wrong tramp. Look again at the guy you hit with the baseball. THAT IS our tramp! Now, before he wakes up, dump this bottle of Tide on him.
*chucks a bottle of Tide and a deckbrush to MLB, grabs the firehose, and climbs to the second floor balcony of the deli from which he opens the nozzle and unleashes a full stream of water.*
^^ Whew. Good thing that was a failed decapitation. Still, it looks like DN will need about a million and three stitches.
And where did the real Zombie's body go?
Uh oh.
And where did the real Zombie's body go?
Uh oh.
Actually, as I look closer, I think it should be "Ph'nglui." Damn these archaic fonts.
BUGRIT!
Wandering along muttering to himself one minute, the next being set upon by hooligans wielding baseball bats. Trying to rob him, were they? He doesn't have anything but sorry-looking cigarette butts and an assortment of useless garbage picked off the streets! Mumbling darkly, Deranged Nasat sees he is bleeding and covered in mud. There's only one thing for it- he needs to go to the pub and drink himself into a stupor.
His new friend has disappeared. How disappointing.
Wandering along muttering to himself one minute, the next being set upon by hooligans wielding baseball bats. Trying to rob him, were they? He doesn't have anything but sorry-looking cigarette butts and an assortment of useless garbage picked off the streets! Mumbling darkly, Deranged Nasat sees he is bleeding and covered in mud. There's only one thing for it- he needs to go to the pub and drink himself into a stupor.
His new friend has disappeared. How disappointing.
No, no, no, RJ! You're looking at the wrong spell. Ph'nglui is only temporary. You want PO-tah-to. Trust me.
MLB approaches Nasat with care, apologizing profusely for the earlier misunderstanding. And the Tide.
An ambulance pulls up and the paramedics offer to treat Nasat's wounds and get him some clean clothes...
An ambulance pulls up and the paramedics offer to treat Nasat's wounds and get him some clean clothes...
*Is perusing the bookstore when he spots a section labelled "Ancient Mob Secrets and starts looking through the books*
Actually, these "secrets" aren't so ancient. And the details aren't far off.
*Pics up copies of three books and heads for the register, stopping only to pick up a copy of "Repairing Assault Rifles for Dummies" on his way*
If you cross reference the three...looks like I know where to find Jimmy Hoffa. And it's only an hour's drive.
Actually, these "secrets" aren't so ancient. And the details aren't far off.
*Pics up copies of three books and heads for the register, stopping only to pick up a copy of "Repairing Assault Rifles for Dummies" on his way*
If you cross reference the three...looks like I know where to find Jimmy Hoffa. And it's only an hour's drive.
^^ Can I interest you in a good Zombie spell?
Ah, yes, I keep forgetting that every third page is read right to left, and all the declamatory verbs go at the end of the chapter.
The bread got home unscathed. Daniel's spent all day drinking huge soup mugs of tea and getting readjusted to normal life. After a murder, a fire, hospitalization, delirium, a kidnapping, torture, a heroic rescue and a zombie attack, "normal" feels strange.
Wanders into the coffee house and orders enough fresh coffee to fill two large thermoses and enough provisions for a lunch.
Jenee fills Captain Ice's order in a daze and wishes him "Merry Christmas" as he walks out the door. The last couple days have been a strain and now ... because she forgot to reset her alarm clock to reflect Daylight Savings Time, she lost an hour of sleep last night.
Daniel noticed that Jenee was a little sick this morning. He decides it must be the aftereffects of the past few stress-filled days and doesn't ask her about it. He spends the morning removing all the zombie-proofing, uncovering the windows and returning the doors to their customary non-barricade positions.
"Normal" also doesn't belong in soap operas.
Hippy Lady twitches her curtains and wonders if anyone had noticed the arrival of her houseguest last night. She thought it unlikely, what with all the hubbub going on elsewhere. Always one to look at the positive side of karma, the zombie attack was a good distraction.
She turns around, looks at the figure asleep (or comatosed? It was quite the session last night) in the bed. She'd always had a special place in her heart for the father or her second child (third? Fourth? She always had trouble keeping the fathers straight), and she hoped he would stay a while. How he crossed the border while the feds were after him was a mystery, but he had always been clever like that. Such a shame, losing that cannabis-growing warehouse when the surrounding businesses figured out why their electricity bills were so high. Which reminded her, the electrics on the toaster oven were wonky, so she must remember to ask Bob (John? George?) to fix that. He's always been so good with electronics.
It was time BobJohnGeorge and Hippy Lady set up business together, she decided. Were there any empty shops that could be used as a front for any, erm, not-quite-within-the-law doings? Hmmm...
Deranged Nasat accepts the apology; sometimes things get out of hand and people take action they later regret. Like when Deranged Nasat himself attacked that man in a suit because he was the devil and knocked him into the canal, and it turned out he wasn't the devil he was the mayor, and maybe the whatever-it-was in the funny smelling cigarette-like object he was smoking had confused him enough to make the mistake. Deranged Nasat was very sorry and hasn't pushed anyone into the canal since, though he still smokes things if he finds them and they can light on fire well enough.
Staggering back onto the street in new - itchy!- clothes, he decides he needs to get back to the coffee shop to finish redecorating. He is lacking his usual healthy coating of grime, which might help.
Ice comes back to his shop to pick up a few things he forgot in his haste last night and notices that the paskage he was waiting for from overseas has arrived. This one also has a note attached to it (which is a first from this supplier) that gives him a local contact number. The note says that this contact number may be good for a few days or a few months, he's not sure which. A quick check of the local phone book reveals the number belongs to the Hippie Lady. Ice gives the package to his subordinates in the back room and heads back out on his search.