ZOMBIE ROLEPLAY PALOOZA!

[Humodour]

I thank the host, Mr. Tulip, and leave. My nostrils burn. I sneeze out a white powder; I realise it is powdered mothballs. I am most displeased. I lurch over to my kangaroo and hop on. I notice somebody is lying in a pool of urine on the sidewalk. I am most displeased. Giddy up.

Edited July 12, 2008 by Krezack

[Atreides]

I awaken from my slumber as the last of the harsh rays of the setting sun retreat to the advancing darkness. The promise of a new night beckons.

[qt3.14159]

I let out a high pitched shriek as I kick gftd1 in the face and begin clawing at the stock room door, unable to figure out the locking mechanism in my drunken haze.

[Deadly_Nightshade]

I assemble the, now clean, parts and put the weapon back into its carry case - now I better return it to the museum.

[Guest The Architect]

I'm feeding my dog her food.

[Blarghagh]

*Still in jail, made someone my... "female dog".*

[Humodour]

I notice Deadly_Nightshade walking out of the local jail. He is walk a bit stiffly.

[Atreides]

I sip my coffee while reading something about the town having statistically high polio rates and disability that causes people to move stiffly.

[@\NightandtheShape/@]

*stands at Night's door, annoyed that he's so slow to open.*

 

 

"Ey, did you get that thing I sent you? And I need to borrow your lawnmower and a safety helmet."

 

 

*tries to sneak a peak inside to see if night has a wizard robe on his coathanger*

 

"Oh, Hey..." I reply solemnly, "Yeah, I recieved the link you sent me for 'Swedish Blonde Zombie Harlots XXX', I wasn't impress."

 

*Lets out a yawn*

 

"You can borrow the lawnmower, and Helmet sure... Do you want to come in for a cup of Tea, coffee... A beer?"

[Humodour]

I feel very thirty, so I go to the closest tavern. It has broken windows and there are shards of glass everywhere on the sidewalk. I decide to avoid it and visit this new 'vodka freezer' instead. The doorman tells me I must put on this Eskimo jacket as I enter. The temperature is -20 and there are flowing fountains of Vodka. It is excellent.

[Rosbjerg]

I walk to the bar and through the window I see a man running towards a women.. apparently he's trying to kiss her with his teeth - and failing miserably.. Jeez people are so desperate these days - and without any sort of tact what-so-ever!

 

Obviously this place is not classy enough (I think to myself).. I see a guy putting on an eskimo costume further down the street.. That's too wierd to not go look at. So I walk down the street.

[Blarghagh]

*Still in jail. I don't read so good, so Tim Robbins is helping me get my high school equivalent. *

[Gfted1]

*The kick sends me out the door of the bar. Sitting up I see a man walking toward another, who appears to be wearing an Eskimo jacket. He doesnt know Im behind him as I start running toward them.*

[Walsingham]

As I round the corner I see a homeless man screaming "Give me vodka!" While he fights with a large white dog. A man with his arm mangled (possibly by the dog) is limping towards me.

 

I stop to help.

[SteveThaiBinh]

There's a heck of a noise coming from outside - a dog snarling and some idiot shouting about vodka. I could close the window, but instead decide to turn the volume on the TV up.

[Kaftan Barlast]

*stands at Night's door, annoyed that he's so slow to open.*

 

 

"Ey, did you get that thing I sent you? And I need to borrow your lawnmower and a safety helmet."

 

 

*tries to sneak a peak inside to see if night has a wizard robe on his coathanger*

 

"Oh, Hey..." I reply solemnly, "Yeah, I recieved the link you sent me for 'Swedish Blonde Zombie Harlots XXX', I wasn't impress."

 

*Lets out a yawn*

 

"You can borrow the lawnmower, and Helmet sure... Do you want to come in for a cup of Tea, coffee... A beer?"

 

 

"No, no, I meant the OTHER thing I sent you."

 

*grabs lawnmower and safety helmet*

 

 

"Good, I need this to... mow something. And Id love to come in *inappropriate nervous laughter* but I have to go return some videotapes."

[Humodour]

As I stumble to the exit of the vodka freezer, I think to myself "that vodka was ambrosia", and scream at the curmudgeon doorman "THIS COAT IS MY COAT. THERE ARE MANY LIKE IT, BUT THIS ONE IS MINE" and quickly stagger out before he can accost me for it. I bump into a shifty looking fellow on the way out.

[thepixiesrock]

I just bumped into a strange man, who I think was drunk. I think he liked my shirt though. It's one of those novelty compuer geek shirts, it has "shift" keys all over it.

[qt3.14159]

I'm sitting huddled in the corner of the room staring at the open door. I stagger to my feet, kick off my broken high heels and try to refasten my torn clothing as I stumble out the door, hoping to get help.

 

In my drunken haze I run into the street into the path of an oncoming car.

[Laozi]

I was driving in my car listening to the radio, some AM talk show about the government or god or something. The windows were down and the cool evening air carried my troubles off into the night. It had been a long journey but finally Miss Thelma Austen was going to see her son, or atleast what I had left of him in my trunk. An arm, a few legs, most of a torso, typical fare for my line of work. Suddenly a woman came on the radio and started talking about mysterious lights in the night sky and strange happenings all around the state. She was rambling, filled with fear, I leaned in closer to the radio as if to hear it better when a blinding light filled the sky above me. I couldn't look up to see what it was, but as I looked out into the desert around me it seemed as if everything had been turned to mud. In the car seat next to me was an expensive camera case, that was clearly empty. The radio began to omit a strange noise and a voice began to rise out of it. I listened as hard as possible, trying to find answers, when suddenly a woman came running out into the road, I forgot about fear and I forgot about the breaks.

Edited July 15, 2008 by Laozi

[Guest The Architect]

I'm tried to turn the television off, but it wouldn't turn off. It should've turned off, because I was pressing the right button to turn it off, but it wouldn't, so I switched off the TV power plug, unplugged the TV power plug, re-plugged the TV power plug, then switched the TV power plug on again. The TV came on. I tried to turn it off with the remote again, but it wouldn't turn off like before, so I switched off the power and unplugged the cord again. This time I left the TV off.

 

Then I put a piece of toast in the toaster. It came out perfect for my liking. I put jam on the toast, but forgot to butter it. I usually put butter on my toast. I ate the piece of toast with the tad feeling of disappointment. It just doesn't taste as good when it's not buttered. I turned off the power plug for the toaster and unplugged it, putting the toaster away.

 

Then I tried to make those noises like when a woman orgasms during sex. It sounded weird. I felt retarded. My dog looked at me like I'm a retard. It was pissing down with rain. I sent my dog outside, laughing on the inside because I thought she'd get soaking wet so then she'd look like the retard. But then I forgot that we have a patio, so she wouldn't get wet at all. The laughing on the inside stopped, like a bad car stalker does when they try to pretend they're not following you.

 

I scratched my nuts, then I jumped up as high as I can, almost smashing my head against the wall. Then I left to go to work, laughing on the inside because I knew my work colleagues would never find out about my "other" personality, the one where I do crazy people things when no one's around, like throw two apricots against a window and as they squash and slowly slide down, watch them while doing push ups with one arm.

[Walsingham]

"Excuse me, ma'am, but are you hurt?" i say to the woman with no arm. I reach out a reassuring hand, and she grabs it with her free hand. The beleeding has ebbed from her severed arm, which is VERY bad news. Sh ecan't have long to OWWWW! She's bitten my finger off! I pull away, backing towards the bar.

[Nick_i_am]

WHY DON'T I HAVE ANY LEGS?!

[Enoch]

It was a hot night. Hotter than night has any right to be. The sun had crept away a few hours back, but the heat... The heat hung around like the stale scent of a lover after a noontime tryst. The ceiling fan twirled lazily overhead, moving as fast as it dared without scattering the mountain of paper on my desk. I poured myself a bourbon. I knew it wouldn't help with the heat in the air, but there might just be enough left in the bottle to get me through another night ignoring the fire in my heart.

 

Things had been good. Business had picked up enough to get my Smith & Wesson back from Vinnie's pawn shop on 3rd Avenue, and to finally pay Suzie the bonus I'd promised her for cracking the Stevens case while I was too hungover to answer the phone. And it had been almost three years since Marie.

 

Marie. The preachers say time heals all wounds, and the shrinks say acceptance will lessen the pain. I'd almost convinced myself they were right until Thursday...

 

Until she walked in.

 

She said her name was Scarlet, and her lips certainly played the part. She strolled into the office on three-inch heels, looked me in the eye and asked for my help. I looked up from the Racing Form and was caught in her gaze. Those eyes... Deep brown and full of sadness and desperation. Those were the kind of eyes that make a man want to move the heavens just to see the tiniest glint of happiness in their depths.

 

Those were Marie's eyes.

 

Her case was a simple missing persons job. Her ex-husband stopped sending her his monthly check back in May. She called his place and found the phone cut off. She went by there, and his landlady told her she found his window broken one morning two weeks back and hadn't seen him since. She said the cops didn't give a sh!t, which is surprising-- back in my day, a knockout like her would've had half the force falling over itself to track the bastard down. I guess that's what happens when you get a new commissioner who quietly tosses all the officers who aren't "good family men."

 

But of all the two-bit shamuses in this town, why would she come to me? I never liked deadbeat ex work. I got no problem with husband work-- drunks, adulterers, and punchers all they deserve what they're getting. But once a man was out, divorced in a court of law and just looking for a clean start somewhere, it just felt wrong to chase him down and drag up the past again. But I couldn't say no to those eyes.

 

And now, it turns out that the case ain't that simple. It stinks. It stinks like a corpse that doesn't have the good sense to lie down and stay dead. It stinks like Marie did, when I found her behind the Chinese laundry on 38th Street, chewing on the arm of the Johnson's kid. Like she did when I aimed my Smith & Wesson at her forehead and pulled the trigger.

Edited July 15, 2008 by Enoch

[Gfted1]

*I hear the car and the thud but I dont stop. Just feet from the two men outside the ice bar, I attack.*