I stood around watching the monitors for about 5 seconds before
I got bored. I had things to do, so I
had Otis watch the monitors for me. He
had told me about some man with a machete in the hardware store, so I made
investigating that my next mission. I
have all sorts of strong blades to use, but what could be more honorable than
using the weapon of the great master Voorhees?
I had to hike to the north plaza again, but it didn’t take
long this time. I made a shake combining
my two favorite things to get ready: wine and pie. When I drank the mixture, my entire body
accelerated, my legs moved at an incredible speed and I zoomed across the park
and outran the jeep-drivers. Once the
effects of the serum wore off though, I felt depressed, as though I would never
run that fast again.
It seems the mixture of pie and wine became a substitute for
cocaine! That explains how the drug lords were able to
smuggle it! They didn’t! All they had to
do was order lots of wine and pies, then put them in a blender once they were
dropped off! This is a breakthrough in
the case! All the authorities need to
know (except for Brad and Jessie, because they’d arrest me for possession), and
that is all the more motivation to get out of here!
I noticed a lot of purple posters pasted throughout the North Plaza ,
each decorated with some sort of eye on it.
Optometry must be booming around here with all the red eye the zombies get.
Surprisingly, the hardware store the machete man was
supposed to be in was zombie-free. The
only zombies in there were hanging up on the ceiling strung up by their ankles
and decapitated, getting blood all over the floor. Someone had already done my job for me.
Suddenly, out of absolutely nowhere, the man himself
demanded my name and rank. I needed a
moment to remember my name and rank in the Kiss army, but he took that pause a
different way and said that I couldn’t remember because I was Viet-Kong!
Mere words cannot express the shock I felt in that very
moment. Was I really Vietnamese? Was I a sleeper agent for the Viet-Kong with
my memories altered through mind manipulation?
Who was to say I was really Frank West?
Would my Vietnamese superiors execute me if I didn’t execute my mission? What was
my mission? I made an educated guess
that fighting Americans took top priority and attacked him.
Also, the man said that I was going to tell him where
gorillas were hiding out, and that he was going to beat the information out of
me. He may have been American, but I
respected his journalistic values. I,
however, was fighting for what I thought was my own country.
“Aye ahm going to FAWK yu ahp!”
He fought dirty, that’s for sure. He spent a lot of our fight hiding around the
store, trying to sneak attack me and toss smoke bombs on top of the aisles to
distract me. What’s more, he kept
fast-traveling around the store using his own personal series of tunnels under
trapdoors. I would have followed him
through them, but he projected some kind of force field that wouldn’t let me go
in. I took a picture of him in the act
though, thinking I could use the picture as evidence of American tactics for my
superiors.
I'm telling! |
He got the drop on me a couple of times and managed to
completely impale me so deeply I could see the end of the blade coming out my
front. Luckily he missed my vitals. Twice.
This is worse than the time I scraped my knee! |
It’s a good thing he chose to do all this in the hardware
store. It has all manner of weapons to
kill him with. It was just like the ad
said! It had allen wrenches, gerbil
feeders, toilet seats, electric heaters, trash compactors, juice extractors,
shower rods and water meters, walkie-talkies, copper wires, safety goggles,
radial tires, BB pellets, rubber mallets, fans and dehumidifiers, picture
hangers, paper cutters, waffle irons, window shutters, paint removers, window
louvers, masking tape and plastic gutters, kitchen faucets, folding tables,
weather stripping… Well, you know.
I broke the chainsaw I got from that clown in the fight, but
he didn’t last long after that. I
thought I had won the day for communism, but I was sadly mistaken.
Right before he died, the machete man told me that his
daughter was eaten and he thought he was still in the war, meaning that I’m not
a sleeper agent after all. It almost
makes me regret mashing him into a pulp, but I came out of the ordeal with some
value.
All that was in his wallet was a key and a picture of his
family, both of which were worthless, but I did get his machete, which I don’t
think he’ll need anymore. I had tried
looking around the store to see where they kept the machetes during the fight,
but he must’ve gotten the last one.
That your brother? He's got a nice 'stache. He's like Mario... Wait, if he's Mario, are you Luigi? Did I just kill Luigi?! Did Luigi fight in 'nam? |
I need to be more aware of my surroundings though. As soon as I looked up, after only a couple
of minutes, the entire store was swarming with zombies. These things are FAST! I thought I heard someone screaming for help,
but after avoiding zombies to look around the store for the source, I just
left. I’m hearing the voices again!
Having done what I came to do, I set out to go stake out the
monitors again. It was on the way there
that I ran into… Them.
"Behold! I got this 50% off at Medieval Times!" |
A group of dudes in raincoats were gathered around a wooden
box they slipped a woman in while an old dude (the leader, apparently) gave
them a lecture about how they can save themselves from the apocalypse by
purging tainted blood or some poop. I
didn’t realize there were so many other survivors.
"Probably because we keep killing people, but..." |
The old dude was presumably going to drive the sword down on
the box and kill the woman inside, which doesn’t seem like purging so much as
it does killing, but who am I to question someone else’s religion? I was ready to take a great picture of the
sword skewering the crate, with blood shooting out the cracks, but he stopped
when he noticed me, no doubt because of my flashy, blinding good looks.
When I caught everyone’s attention I got a good look at
their faces. They were all wearing
rather familiar-looking green masks.
They must've been out of white ones at the party shop. |
I had stumbled upon the dreaded Scream fanclub, where
everyone wears a Ghost Face mask and carries a knife around. The leader told the guys in the mask that I
had to be purged too, either for not liking the Scream movies (“non-believer”)
or having tainted blood. Considering I
drank half a gallon of cocaine earlier, my blood probably wouldn’t pass their
drug test. The leader must’ve seen it with
his blood-analyzing x-ray vision. A
useful ability, I’m sure.
I can’t deny I never really liked the Scream movies very much
either. The only thing I worship is our
lord and savior: Mormon Jesus.
Suddenly the leader vanished into thin air and the fan club
members around the crate multiplied!
Apparently worshipping Scream grants you the powers of sorcery! I was all ready to join right then and there,
but applications must be closed because all the members just attacked me.
Using my cunning intellect, I defeated the lot of them by
shuffle dancing to the Mormon Jesus song, throwing them off-guard before
suddenly saying “hammer time!” and slamming the fudge out of them with a hammer
I picked up at the hardware store.
They didn’t go down without a fight. In addition to their knives, they were all
carrying their own sticks of dynamite too!
Only they didn’t throw their explosives.
They tried to blown them up in my face for a kamikaze attack! These are some of the most dedicated fans
I’ve ever seen. They’re willing to die
for their cause! I can’t help but admire
that.
The best part is I saved the woman in the crate! I was able to escort her all the way back to
the security room without accidentally killing her! I honest to god rescued someone! It’s a
miracle! That makes three people for our
rations! We’re going to eat like kings!
But now I have a bunch of angry fanboys around the mall
trying to kill me in addition to the zombies. Also I think they killed Kent, because I haven't seen him since his challenge.
Sometimes life just hates you.
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