Viva La Undead
Day 9- Lunch with Free Beer. ' How's your zombie thing going?' he asks, popping a gnocchi into his mouth.
' Woefully. It's amateur. Pure bush league. Re-reading what I've written makes me want to vomit.' He moves his plate away from me. He suggests I might set it somewhere interesting, perhaps New Orleans? I tell him it's too soon. Thought provoking New Orleans survival stories will dominate for awhile. People may get the wrong impression and think I'm taking the piss. ' Besides I'm trudging along with it. I thought a court scene would make a cool intermission. There's an insurance debate that rages over whether the zombies are man made ( from either a disgruntled Haitian witch doctor who places a voodoo curse on everyone who takes his car spot or a crazy Nazi experiment that, surprise, surprise, goes awry) or an act of God ( meteors) and who is liable for the damages incurred.'
' You should also have an old guy in it who has lived through a previous zombie invasion.' says Free Beer.
' His name should be Lucky. He's like " Zombies huh? That reminds this old sea dog of the zombie plague of 1922. Time to bring out ' Betsy' once again."'
' Betsy is his trusty rocket launcher.'
'...or flame thrower.'
A flame-thrower toting old guy, Nazis, zombies and cowboys from the 1870's. And the only thing that could possibly bring it all together: Time travel. Brilliant. Now to get Bruckheimer on the phone and sign me a movie deal.
Kind of like Gandhi, only Fatter,