Post by cureforthesickness on Jan 4, 2007 15:26:01 GMT -5
A screech is heard in the distance followed by a blood curdling scream. It is the twilight but movement is minimal. The streets are stained with various patches of crimson ooze. Laying in the middle of the street is a middle aged man. He is wearing a pair of black dress pants and a tattered and blood stained white shirt. The shirt is torn down the middle with a gaping hole right in the center. Entering through this gaping hole is a scarred, burnt, and very dirty arm. The arm is going all the way into the chest of the man on the ground, the obvious source of the agony. The arm pulls out of the chest with a handful of guts in hand. He shoves these cuts into his mouth a bits down, causing a small fountain of blood and other juices to leak from his mouth and down his chin. The attacker stands up, leaving his victim behind to bleed to death. He runs down the street in the most awkward of ways. His feet never land correctly onto the ground. One time, they will land with the toes straight down, the next they will land directly on the ball of the ankle. The man never stops running despite the hell he is putting on his legs. The flesh eater finds another prey, this time a young woman. She cannot be more than twenty years old. Her hair is a golden blonde and it lays over her shoulder carelessly. Her face is etched with pain and agony and her arm is bloody. The flesh eater comes from behind her and immediately latches onto her neck. He takes a large bite out of the neck and blood begins to pour out like a faucet. Literally buckets of blood pour from the newly created hole in her neck. The blood loss is too much for her and she falls to the ground as her attacker stands over her, licking the blood off his own hands with a delighted look on his face. “STOP” appears in bold white letters in the top left hand corner of the screen and the footage comes to an immediate stop, switching to a black screen. We pull out from the screen and we see Obo standing with a remote control in hand.
Obo: How I love zombie horror movies. The blood, the gore, the mindless and senseless killing. It is enough to make me downright giddy. What intrigues me most about zombie movies, however, is the way the zombies ALWAYS come about. These are not your every day creatures, but instead undead warriors who have already been killed once. Following their first death, they somehow reanimated themselves and went on a mindless killing spree. Their mission was one of nothing more than destruction. Death was on their mind. Following their own first death, they want nothing more than to once again become what they once were, but sadly, after their first destruction, they cannot. They do not know this until after it is too late. They try to destroy mere mortals in order to fuel their own immortality. But even the immortals eventually fall.
“PLAY” appears in the top corner and the film continues to play. The zombie pulls himself from the crimson pool that once resembled the young blonde haired girl. He licks the blood from his hands as he gets into another sprint, this time coming up from behind a man in a suit. His clothes are not stained in blood like the previous two victims, because over a nice brown suit, he has on a plastic poncho. The poncho has several droplets of dried blood on it, but none is actually on the man’s clothes. The man stands with a walkie talkie in hand and he is speaking into it. Words are not audible but he is definitely sending a message into this machine. His message is cut off, however, when the flesh eating thing comes from behind him and attacks. The killing machine sinks his arm deep into the back of the poncho clad man, drawing a handful of flesh out. He eats his new tasty treat as his victim falls to the street. The poncho man’s face bangs off the concrete as he falls. The zombie is not done, however. He sees an open mouth and salivates at the opportunity. He stuffs his hand into the mouth of the fallen hero. When he removes his hand, he has a piece of pink flesh in hand, the tongue. The zombie bits down on the tongue, biting the tip clean off. He swallows this but barely gets it swallowed before he is distracted. A gun shot in the distance causes the zombie to quickly turn around. The zombie’s primal intelligence is not enough to actually distinguish where the shot came from, but when a second shot echoes out, he definitely knows where it is coming from. He runs in this direction but freezes when the word “PAUSE” appears in the top left hand corner of the screen.
Obo: Johnny Michaels, you were once like a hero to me. But you fell from grace. Fell into the abyss. Everyone thought you were dead. You left your life behind. But now, it’s 2007. The dead walk. The dead walk into me. Johnny Michaels, had you remained around, this would be a very uneven match, because I would be your little soldier, following your advice and only your’s. But now, your generation has died off. You are the last of a dying breed. Perhaps it’s for the better. Things change. You fell but tried to get back up, but you cannot get your footing back. You tried to stand back to where you were, but where you were no longer is. You are trying to get your footing in a non-existent area. Is it instinct? Primal urges typed into your subliminal cortex that even the mutated shell of your former self that walks today can understand? I do not know. What I do know, Johnny Michaels, is you have steps into the killing fields.
“PLAY” appears in the top right hand of the corner again and the zombie continues his quest for flesh. He rounds a corner and sees the noise maker. It is a young man, no older than twenty five. He is clad in a long black trench coat that is sporadically stained with blood. He stands dominantly upon a tall hill. The zombie spots him and runs towards him, not realizing that this man is dangerous. His prehistoric mindset is programmed for one thing: death. Without fear, he runs towards the gun wielding madman and without hesitation, the trench coat man wastes no motion, immediately lifting his gun and firing just one shot. The shot is a dead ringer and it hits the zombie right between the eyes. The shot has such force that it not only blows into the zombie’s head, but it blows out the other side, blowing bits of flesh and brain matter with it. The zombie quickly falls to the ground, the newly created hole on his head bouncing off the cement.
Obo: Gotta love movie special effects. This man just got shot in the face but when the director yells cut, he will get up. He will be perfectly fine. He will go home to a loving wife and kids. But Johnny Michaels, no one is going to be there to yell cut for you. There will be no special effects. And there will be no prop blood. This pain is real. Johnny Michaels, welcome to your hell.
A knock on the door is heard. Obo quickly hops off the bed and goes to the door. He turns the knob and opens the door to reveal on the other side a young girl. She stands with a sleepy look on her face. This young girl is his daughter.
Obo: What’s wrong precious?
Daughter: I couldn’t sleep Daddy.. Will you tell me a bed time story?
Obo: Sure sweetheart, just sit down on the bed..
The young girl climbs up onto the bed, quickly finding a comfortable spot on a pillow. Obo sits down on the bed near her and begins to tell a story.
Obo: Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was an old clown. For many years, this clown entertained thousands by doing the same old tricks, night in and night out. For a long time, this clown entertained a lot of people. But after a while, the clown grew old. The clown’s tricks grew stale. The circus attendees wanted something new and interesting. They stopped coming to see the old clown, instead going to see a younger clown with new, interesting tricks. This new clown..
Obo stops the story when the little girl laying next to him begins to snore. Obo stands up off the bed and leans down, kissing his daughter on the forehead. He turns around and begins to walk out the door. Before he leaves the room, he turns around. Looking back at his sleeping daughter with a slight smirk, he speaks in a mellowed tone.
Obo: She’s just like her mother, never finishes anything..
Obo: How I love zombie horror movies. The blood, the gore, the mindless and senseless killing. It is enough to make me downright giddy. What intrigues me most about zombie movies, however, is the way the zombies ALWAYS come about. These are not your every day creatures, but instead undead warriors who have already been killed once. Following their first death, they somehow reanimated themselves and went on a mindless killing spree. Their mission was one of nothing more than destruction. Death was on their mind. Following their own first death, they want nothing more than to once again become what they once were, but sadly, after their first destruction, they cannot. They do not know this until after it is too late. They try to destroy mere mortals in order to fuel their own immortality. But even the immortals eventually fall.
“PLAY” appears in the top corner and the film continues to play. The zombie pulls himself from the crimson pool that once resembled the young blonde haired girl. He licks the blood from his hands as he gets into another sprint, this time coming up from behind a man in a suit. His clothes are not stained in blood like the previous two victims, because over a nice brown suit, he has on a plastic poncho. The poncho has several droplets of dried blood on it, but none is actually on the man’s clothes. The man stands with a walkie talkie in hand and he is speaking into it. Words are not audible but he is definitely sending a message into this machine. His message is cut off, however, when the flesh eating thing comes from behind him and attacks. The killing machine sinks his arm deep into the back of the poncho clad man, drawing a handful of flesh out. He eats his new tasty treat as his victim falls to the street. The poncho man’s face bangs off the concrete as he falls. The zombie is not done, however. He sees an open mouth and salivates at the opportunity. He stuffs his hand into the mouth of the fallen hero. When he removes his hand, he has a piece of pink flesh in hand, the tongue. The zombie bits down on the tongue, biting the tip clean off. He swallows this but barely gets it swallowed before he is distracted. A gun shot in the distance causes the zombie to quickly turn around. The zombie’s primal intelligence is not enough to actually distinguish where the shot came from, but when a second shot echoes out, he definitely knows where it is coming from. He runs in this direction but freezes when the word “PAUSE” appears in the top left hand corner of the screen.
Obo: Johnny Michaels, you were once like a hero to me. But you fell from grace. Fell into the abyss. Everyone thought you were dead. You left your life behind. But now, it’s 2007. The dead walk. The dead walk into me. Johnny Michaels, had you remained around, this would be a very uneven match, because I would be your little soldier, following your advice and only your’s. But now, your generation has died off. You are the last of a dying breed. Perhaps it’s for the better. Things change. You fell but tried to get back up, but you cannot get your footing back. You tried to stand back to where you were, but where you were no longer is. You are trying to get your footing in a non-existent area. Is it instinct? Primal urges typed into your subliminal cortex that even the mutated shell of your former self that walks today can understand? I do not know. What I do know, Johnny Michaels, is you have steps into the killing fields.
“PLAY” appears in the top right hand of the corner again and the zombie continues his quest for flesh. He rounds a corner and sees the noise maker. It is a young man, no older than twenty five. He is clad in a long black trench coat that is sporadically stained with blood. He stands dominantly upon a tall hill. The zombie spots him and runs towards him, not realizing that this man is dangerous. His prehistoric mindset is programmed for one thing: death. Without fear, he runs towards the gun wielding madman and without hesitation, the trench coat man wastes no motion, immediately lifting his gun and firing just one shot. The shot is a dead ringer and it hits the zombie right between the eyes. The shot has such force that it not only blows into the zombie’s head, but it blows out the other side, blowing bits of flesh and brain matter with it. The zombie quickly falls to the ground, the newly created hole on his head bouncing off the cement.
Obo: Gotta love movie special effects. This man just got shot in the face but when the director yells cut, he will get up. He will be perfectly fine. He will go home to a loving wife and kids. But Johnny Michaels, no one is going to be there to yell cut for you. There will be no special effects. And there will be no prop blood. This pain is real. Johnny Michaels, welcome to your hell.
A knock on the door is heard. Obo quickly hops off the bed and goes to the door. He turns the knob and opens the door to reveal on the other side a young girl. She stands with a sleepy look on her face. This young girl is his daughter.
Obo: What’s wrong precious?
Daughter: I couldn’t sleep Daddy.. Will you tell me a bed time story?
Obo: Sure sweetheart, just sit down on the bed..
The young girl climbs up onto the bed, quickly finding a comfortable spot on a pillow. Obo sits down on the bed near her and begins to tell a story.
Obo: Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was an old clown. For many years, this clown entertained thousands by doing the same old tricks, night in and night out. For a long time, this clown entertained a lot of people. But after a while, the clown grew old. The clown’s tricks grew stale. The circus attendees wanted something new and interesting. They stopped coming to see the old clown, instead going to see a younger clown with new, interesting tricks. This new clown..
Obo stops the story when the little girl laying next to him begins to snore. Obo stands up off the bed and leans down, kissing his daughter on the forehead. He turns around and begins to walk out the door. Before he leaves the room, he turns around. Looking back at his sleeping daughter with a slight smirk, he speaks in a mellowed tone.
Obo: She’s just like her mother, never finishes anything..
