dreams
I look up from my workbench. I am surrounded by the equipment of my trade: jacob's ladders, bubbling vials of mysterious liquids and assorted surgical tools. From within my stone laboratory, I conduct experiments on the edge of science. My girlfriend has disturbed my work. In a voice as sultry as her walk, she reminds me of our dinner engagement. In a series of blurred camera cuts, we consume a decadent dinner and proceed to an after-dinner show. An MC in a ratty tuxedo asks for a volunteer. The spotlight swings across the crowd to linger on me. After a peck on the check from my companion, I stroll up to the stage.
With a groan, a giant wooden wheel rolls onto the stage. As I am strapped onto the wheel, the MC explains that a Tibeten monk will demonstrate enlightenment with throwing knives. The MC leans close to my ear and whispers with a malevolent tone, "Tonight everything is scripted, just like your science." Fade to black.
I wake up in my laboratory, sluggish and muzzyheaded. My vision is blurred and erratic. I sit up and see a note affixed to the wall with a dagger. "I'm so sorry" she writes. "I did what I could, but I had to leave. Please forgive me for my weakness." I feel a weight on my arm. A used syringe hangs down, its payload delivered. I yank the needle out and examine the fluid within. My zombie fluid!!! I stumble to the mirror, test tubes crashing to the ground as my stilting walk sends me into workbenches. With trembling hand I wipe the mirror clean. Two fatal throwing knife wounds mark my chest. My skin is pale and drawn. My eyes are shot full of red veins.
A frenzy of activity ensues as I ransack my laboratory for a compound to arrest my zombification, yet preserve my current state of unlife.
I really need to not eat pizza with bacon on it for dinner.
With a groan, a giant wooden wheel rolls onto the stage. As I am strapped onto the wheel, the MC explains that a Tibeten monk will demonstrate enlightenment with throwing knives. The MC leans close to my ear and whispers with a malevolent tone, "Tonight everything is scripted, just like your science." Fade to black.
I wake up in my laboratory, sluggish and muzzyheaded. My vision is blurred and erratic. I sit up and see a note affixed to the wall with a dagger. "I'm so sorry" she writes. "I did what I could, but I had to leave. Please forgive me for my weakness." I feel a weight on my arm. A used syringe hangs down, its payload delivered. I yank the needle out and examine the fluid within. My zombie fluid!!! I stumble to the mirror, test tubes crashing to the ground as my stilting walk sends me into workbenches. With trembling hand I wipe the mirror clean. Two fatal throwing knife wounds mark my chest. My skin is pale and drawn. My eyes are shot full of red veins.
A frenzy of activity ensues as I ransack my laboratory for a compound to arrest my zombification, yet preserve my current state of unlife.
I really need to not eat pizza with bacon on it for dinner.