Jeremy and his wife Katheryn, a couple in their mid 30’s, were parked at the curb of a fifties style drive in restaurant eating their burgers and fries. On a tray designed to sit on a partially open car window, sat a rootbeer float in a frost covered glass with ice cream melting down the sides. Jeremy and Katheryn were enjoying their meal when a car two parking places over started to blast their music.
Jeremy considered asking them to turn their music down but it seemed inappropriate to do so. Asking for some reason would be even more inappropriate than the current volume of their music. Telling them to “turn it down,” would have to be the responsibility of the restaurant staff.
There were several other customers parked at the curb and Jeremy could tell by their their facial expressions that they were bothered by the loud techno music. He joked with Katheryn, “Honey will you go tell them to turn their music down?” She gave him a funny look.
The car blasting the loud music was a 2009 gray Cadillac. Inside were four kids in their mid-twenties. A guy with a bleach blonde fro-hawk and designer shades sat in the driver’s seat. A blond girl with Gucci sunglasses and a tank top sat shotgun. A slender pair of women’s feet stuck out an open window in the back seat. In the other back seat was a young man with a crewcut and a tattoo of a lions head on his left shoulder.
At this particular drive-in restaurant, when you wanted the attention of the servers, it was as simple as turning on the headlights in your car. There was a big sign in front that said “Turn on your lights for service.” It worked well. Jeremy used it when he wanted a few extra napkins and the waitress brought him a ton. “Maybe it works too well,” he thought, holding the wad of extra napkins in his right hand.
However the driver of the gray Cadillac clearly had overlooked the sign. He decided it would be better to shout and whistle at the two young waitresses. He used this method for several verbal exchanges, one of which was a complaint that they brought him the wrong burger.
Jeremy couldn’t believe the rudeness of these people, it seemed to go from bad to worse. The thought of a large cup of orange fry sauce hurling through a blue sky, spilling over the edges and heading their direction made him laugh. It was just a thought, but one that soon materialized when he heard the words.
“Hurry it up, Bitch!” come out of fro-hawks mouth.
Subtly, Jeremy lobbed a half open but full container of fry sauce high into the air, aiming for the Cadillac. The fry sauce’s trajectory took a high arc that the universe would certainly help guide to splatter upon the Cadillac’s windshield. “They won’t have any idea who threw it and I will deny knowing anything about it.” Jeremy thought. He would not let his wife in on this little secret either.
However, the fry sauce didn’t land on their windshield, instead it floated through their open sunroof and exploded in the drivers bleach blonde fro-hawk. The orange goop was all over his hair, clothes, and a big glob of it draped over the lens of his designer sunglasses.
Fro-hawk was pissed and he stepped out of his car mad as hell. “WHO THREW IT!” Fro-hawk yelled aloud as if he was talking to everybody parked in the drive in. He marched up and down the aisles of cars and kicked a few random bumpers. One big guy got out of his truck and started yelling at him. Clearly at a disadvantage, Fro-hawk backed down from the fight. He got back in his car and the four pealed out upon leaving the drive-in.
The whole scene was incredibly entertaining and Jeremy was proud of himself for creating it and not taking credit. Kathryn had no idea that Jeremy threw the fry sauce, and he intended to keep it this way until long after the incident was over. Otherwise she might turn him in. Her sense of universal justice did not match that of his own. It was a difference that could spawn an argument now and then, but at the same time helped keep them together.
One of the cooks behind the grill however saw the whole fry sauce incident. He stared at Jeremy with a grin and nodded in approval when he caught his eye. As Jeremy left the parking lot, he turned the corner and another open container of fry sauce came sliding off the center console and into his lap. It got all over his new pair of pants. Amidst all the excitement, Jeremy had forgotten that there was another open container of fry sauce sitting on the center console.
He supposed it was the universe showing it’s sense of humor, though he didn’t find it nearly as funny when the joke was on him. Did you put that fry sauce on the center console he asked Katheryn? She did not put it there, at least she didn’t think she did. For all Jeremy knew, it was he who put it there and forgot about it.
Luckily, they had a lot of extra napkins in the car to clean up the mess.
Once upon a time, a lonely fisherman caught a beautiful mermaid in his net. The fisherman did not believe in mermaids so to him the sight was a miracle. He pulled up the net and opened it on the bow of his boat. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he tried to cover her with a blanket to preserve her modesty.
The mermaid tensed up and lashed at him with her magical tail. The fisherman jumped back and calmly set the blanket down. She relaxed and her body glistened in the sun as the sea water dripped off her pale skin.
The fisherman couldn’t believe that the heavens had brought him such a beautiful creature. He didn’t know what to do, so he just gazed at her in stillness and listened to her thoughts.
The fisherman knew exactly what the mermaid was communicating because she had the ability to paint vivid pictures in his mind. He came to understand that she was caught in his net by her own will.
“Why did you let me catch you?” He asked out loud because he could not relate in her native tongue.
“You need to do something for me” she said, but this time she spoke with words. “My gift to you is my presence and that will always be my gift but you must now throw me back into the sea.”
“What do you mean?” said the fisherman. “How can I have your presence if I throw you back into the sea?”
The fisherman pleaded but he knew that he must throw her back, there was no other way. So he scooped her up in his arms and moved toward the edge of the boat to drop her back into the ocean.
Before he could let go, she kissed him. The experience was like a rush of white light entering his soul, surrounding and embracing him. He could never let her go, never! But she told him that he must and so he did. He dropped her and she vanished into the ocean.
Every day since the mermaid first appeared to the fisherman, he hoped he would see her in his daily catch but she was never caught. Every day he hoped he would see her swimming by his boat but he never saw her. He longed to see her and felt even more lonely at the thought of her absence.
“Why didn’t I just keep her against her will?” he thought. “Surely her telepathy would have driven me mad, but it wouldn’t be as bad as the madness I suffer now.”
Weeks of tormenting thoughts passed before the fisherman realized how foolish a man he actually was. He remembered how it was to catch her and how her body looked in the shining sun. He remembered how it was when she had kissed him and the true miracle that was brought forth with her presence.
It was at that moment the white light returned and he felt the mermaid’s presence again. He was no longer sad when she didn’t show up in his catch or wasn’t seen off the side of his boat. He knew that he could invoke her anytime he thought about her and he held true to this knowing.
And with that knowing, the fisherman was no longer a foolish man. He was a man who would forever have a telepathic channel of communication open; between himself and the mermaid of the sea.
(The Big Lebowski characters meet in the Night of the Living Dead setting) Download PDF
A small white house in the country is perched on a green hillside. The house is boarded up. A few scattered zombies roam about and the sun is going down. Inside the house, 3 men and 1 woman prepare to do battle with evil forces for which we can’t explain the origins.
While others sharpen their blades and inspect their guns, our spotlight character, the Dude, rests with his feet propped up on the arm of the sofa. He is drinking a White Russian and reading an issue of National Geographic. Gordon, the team leader, enters the room and is not happy with the sight.
“UH-hum, you need to get up and grab a gun.”
He sits up, and sets the drink and magazine down, trying not to lose the page he was on.
“Yeah, man far out.”
Gordon looks him over with a furrowed brow, unable to comprehend what is “far out” about the current situation. He grabs a 12 gauge shotgun and throws it to the Dude, hoping he’ll catch it… he does but it knocks him in the chest.
“We have a situation, that requires immediate action… and what did you say your name was?”
“Dude, just call me Dude.”
“Okay… Dude, don’t get killed tonight.”
The team had prepared for a long night. They had bottled water, plenty of food as well as weapons and ammo. Would they make it? Gordon could only hope for the best. He decided to make a round through the house to see how everyone was doing.
Dee was currently positioned at the window looking East. She was an ex-marine who could handle herself well. Her hair was short, crew cut style and she never said much. Her chest was enormous for her frame but she was far from the type to have a boob job. Asking her if she had a boob job would surely mean a fight, one in which Gordon would have to use his well honed skills in his defense.
Gordon himself was an ex-marine and would have been taken by Dee’s natural beauty right away had she not been seeing the guy in the next room, Ian.
“Ya okay in here Dee?”
“Check.”
Gordon moved to the next room where Ian was stationed. He could never understand what Dee saw in Ian. He was a loaner who traveled around a lot. Ian had a short mullet and wore horn rimmed glasses.
“Ian, you okay?”
“Righto, Gordo,” he said, doing a bad impression of an English accent.
“We got a barrage of zombies about to hit us.” Gordon said.
“I see em and I’m ready man, bring it on”
They both looked out the cracks between the boards that covered the windows. They could see the horizon was filling up with zombies as the sky was filling up with night. Gordon was concerned.
For the next several minutes he discussed possible strategies with Ian. They analyzed their strengths and weaknesses and came up with several worst case scenarios. Unfortunately, Gordon knew on some level that they were all doomed.
Dee eventually came in to join them. He was glad, for she often had good ideas. Aside from that, her presence really tied the room together.
Gordon, sensing the need for the team to stay tied together, went to get the Dude. Though doubtful if he’d have much to add, he was doing his best to inspire teamwork.
The Dude however, was not at his post. His gun was sitting in the windowsill unattended. He was thumbing through old records and had on a pair of headphones. Gordon could hear the music coming from the Dude’s headphones all the way across the room. He was outraged and a little panic stricken.
“What the hell are you doing!?” Gordon yelled.
The dude hardly heard him but his voice was just loud enough to get him to turn his head around and look at Gordon.
“Oh, hey man.”
“What’s the matter with you, do you realize what’s coming our way?”
The Dude, catching the drift of Gordon’s anger, suddenly felt guilty for not manning his post.
“Sorry man.”
He put the headphones down and turned off the record player. Then he carefully pulled the record off the turntable and slid it in the jacket. Several records sat on the floor and the Dude picked them up and began sorting them out one by one. All this time Gordon stands, gun in hand, watching in confusion and disbelief.
Apparently, the Dude had misplaced an album in the wrong sleeve. He starts taking the records out and fumbles around looking for the right match. It’s enough to turn Gordon’s disbelief into rage. He rushes over and grabs the albums out of the Dude’s hands and throws them in a pile on the floor.
“Hey, careful man… that’s Billie Holiday.”
“Maybe you’re not grasping the full scope of what were up against. We’ve got zombies outside that want to eat our brains and they’ll be here any minute.”
The Dude is a bit put off by Gordon’s aggression but is understanding of his concern. He nods in agreement.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“You don’t even have your gun in your hand. We’re covered on the North, East and South but what’s going to happen when they hit the West side of the house… your side of the house?”
“They haven’t hit yet man.”
“Well, when they do all hell’s going to break loose, and you… what’d you say your name was again?”
“Dude, or The dude… Dudearino, or…”
“Nevermind… Get that gun in your hand and get over there and guard the window.”
“Okay, man”
“Pronto!”
Gordon storms out of the room. He’s frazzled but at least satisfied he’s now got everyone, including the dude, covering their bases. Before he can make it back to his post, he hears a thumping sound coming from the back of the house. The zombies have arrived.
He runs to find Dee and Ian madly fighting Zombies at the back door. Arms are coming through cracks in the boards and Ian and Dee are hacking off limbs with a machete and kitchen knife. There is a pile of limbs on the floor and the two have pretty much got their hands full.
Gordon runs to the window to fight some more zombies. He can hear them hissing and moaning outside, lumbering around the back porch. He sticks his shotgun between one of the cracks through the window and squeezes off a few rounds.
Meanwhile, the Dude is squeezing off shots as well. At first he’s not sure he likes the violent kick of the shotgun but then starts to think it’s kinda cool. The fight goes on for several minutes as the team hacks, slices and blasts away. It’s almost enough to give them the illusion that they’re winning.
A loud crash in the kitchen is enough to shatter that illusion as a horde of zombies make it through the outside kitchen door. Gordon, knowing the layout of the house quickly moves to counter the attack, shutting the kitchen doors.
“Let’s go,” he says to Dee and Ian.
Then he notices the bite on Ian’s arm.
“Did one of them bite you?” Gordon says, looking at the huge open wound on Ian’s forearm.
“Looks that way,” says Ian.
Dee quickly grabs a strip of gause and bandages him up. They move toward another area of the house, the west side where the Dude holds down the fort. Gordon creates barriers out of furniture and Dee helps Ian walk. Gradually moving west and sealing off the way behind them so the zombies can’t follow.
During this intensity, Gordon is thinking, “either the Dude is dead or he’s happily sitting on the couch and smoking a “J”.”
They bust in his room.
“Ian’s been bit!” Says Dee.
The Dude is blasting away at zombies, and appears to be enjoying himself. He turns around and faces the group.
“Whoa… you should have seen that one!”
As he does this, a zombie from outside grabs the barrel of his unattended gun and presses down, knocking the dude in the head with the butt end. The Dude corrects and a brief tug of war ensues before he manages to get a shot off.
“Whoaaaaaaaa!”
Meanwhile, Ian collapses on the floor and Dee bends down to help him. The Dude pulls himself away from the action to notice what’s going on. Ian, his buddy that he met as a fellow roadie for Metallica has been bitten and it’s not looking good for him.
“We got to shoot em,” says Gordon.
Gordon holds up his gun, ready to do the job. The Dude steps in, trying to call attention away from his friend Ian.
“Wait man, we have a situation that requires immediate action here man. Zombies are all over the horizon.”
“Ian’s not looking good, that’s were the action needs to be taken Dude.”
“He’ll get over it man.”
“That’s not usually what happens in these situations.” says Gordon.
Suddenly, Ian lunges for the Dude’s leg and tries to take a bite. The Dude jumps back just in time. Gordon squeezes the trigger on his shotgun and Blam! Blood and brains fly everywhere splattering across the Dude’s face. Bits and pieces get into his beard.
The Dude stands still for a moment then shakes his head without actually moving at all. (Much like the scene where Donnie’s ashes scatter across his face at the funeral). However there is no wind, the air is still. The silence is interrupted by a loud yell from upstairs.
“Wooooohooooooo”. It’s Walter and he’s jumped from the second floor onto the landing.
“Walter, you made it”
“Hey Dude, looks like you’ve got yourself quite a situation here.”
“Walter, am I glad to see you man”
The doors burst open with zombies and Gordon and Dee make a mad rush upstairs almost knocking Walter over.
“That’s right, everybody upstairs, the chopper’s waitin… Bunch a Nihilists”
“Nihilists? Walter, they’re not Nihilists.”
“Not them Dude, the evil forces invading your little abode here”
The Dude stops on the landing to have a brief conversation with Walter. They survey the situation on the lower floor of the house, now being taken over by zombies.
“Walter, they’re not Nihilists they’re Zombies man”
“Call em what you will Dude, no time to argue, lets go”
Walter kicks one the zombies in the chest and sends him falling back on a bunch of other zombies. They make a run for the roof where a helicopter is waiting. They all make it to the makeshift launch pad, but there’s one small problem.
They’ve got 5 people and the chopper only fits 4. Jonnie,(a long lost cousin of Donnie) and an old friend of Walter and the Dude is sitting in the helicopter too.
“Hey Dude.” He says.
“Hey Jonnie, Walter why the hell did you bring Jonnie?”
“I don’t know Dude, the company I guess.”
“Can we all fit?” says Dee.
“I can sit on someone’s lap.” says Jonnie
“Jonnie, you’re out of your element, it’s too much weight for the chopper”
“1 of us will have to stay.”
To be continued…
