[Evil Dead Series] Post-Modern Babble On
Title: Post-Modern Babble On
Author: rise_your_dead
Fandom: Evil Dead Series
Characters: Ash Williams
Length: 529
Rating: R
Warnings: Canon-typical violence and language
Prompt: 092. Evil Dead Series -- Ash -- By the second week of the zombie apocalypse, Ash was beginning to miss the conversational abilities of the Deadites.
After he got over the whole dead-people-roaming the earth at all times of the day thing, Ash discovered that he was quite suited to this new, post-apocalyptic world. Sure, he was hundreds of years past his expiration point and he had a sweet ZZ Top beard to contend with, but he was alive. That made everything that followed absolutely worthwhile, including the struggle to find non-irradiated food and keeping the zombies out of his hair.
And Ash HATED zombies. An obvious statement to make, but his reasons for feeling this way were unusual. He wasn’t scared of them - they were slower than Deadites, stupider, and far less couth about their aims. They posed less than a threat to a seasoned warrior such as him.
His big problem wasn’t the waste they created or the danger they posed.
His problem was that they couldn’t recognize a pun if their afterlife depended on it.
A typical night went like this. He’d start his patrol, hiking from one end of the land to the other. He’d meet up with a zombie and draw on him.
One shot would take most of it out - too bad the rest of the thing just kept coming.
And Ash was left waiting for the uber-slow zombie to crawl closer to him to better finish off the creature. It took forever. He tapped his toes and sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes as he waited. Finally, he had to ask: “so, uh….you have any one-liners? Any witty words of wisdom?”
“Brains!” it lurched forward, reaching for Ash’s denim lapels.
“Woah, hands off the Ash-man!” A hatchet blow and a push sent the corpse sprawling, though the process coated Ash in gore from chin to hip. He scraped the goo from his face and glared at the twitching, globby corpse. “Do you know how long it takes me to wash this crap out?!”
The answer was hours by hand in the nearest stream of running water - which was fifty miles away.
Naturally, Ash managed to run into another cluster of the slippery bastards two minutes after moseying toward the river. One liners flew as fast as bullets while he dismembered his foes.
“Is that your face, or did your neck throw up?”
“You’ve got a face only a motherfucker could love.”
“We’ve got a special two for one sale at the S-Mart today! Buy one bullet hole, get a lobotomy! Free!”
But no, no matter how witty he got, the stock answer was another shout for brains and another lurching grab toward his head.
“You make me miss the demons,” Ash told the severed head lying by his foot.
The demons probably missed him, too. Even they couldn't lead a full-scale assault on humanity with half of them already shambling about mindlessly. It might as well be a world of bloody rain and constant pestilence - for only one man would have noticed the absence of normalcy.
Ash dealt with the punches and simply moved on to the next enemy. It was a strange new world, this post-apocalyptic one.
But as lonely as it was, it at least he had himself. And a half-full box of Twinkies, though that was beside the point.
Author: rise_your_dead
Fandom: Evil Dead Series
Characters: Ash Williams
Length: 529
Rating: R
Warnings: Canon-typical violence and language
Prompt: 092. Evil Dead Series -- Ash -- By the second week of the zombie apocalypse, Ash was beginning to miss the conversational abilities of the Deadites.
After he got over the whole dead-people-roaming the earth at all times of the day thing, Ash discovered that he was quite suited to this new, post-apocalyptic world. Sure, he was hundreds of years past his expiration point and he had a sweet ZZ Top beard to contend with, but he was alive. That made everything that followed absolutely worthwhile, including the struggle to find non-irradiated food and keeping the zombies out of his hair.
And Ash HATED zombies. An obvious statement to make, but his reasons for feeling this way were unusual. He wasn’t scared of them - they were slower than Deadites, stupider, and far less couth about their aims. They posed less than a threat to a seasoned warrior such as him.
His big problem wasn’t the waste they created or the danger they posed.
His problem was that they couldn’t recognize a pun if their afterlife depended on it.
A typical night went like this. He’d start his patrol, hiking from one end of the land to the other. He’d meet up with a zombie and draw on him.
One shot would take most of it out - too bad the rest of the thing just kept coming.
And Ash was left waiting for the uber-slow zombie to crawl closer to him to better finish off the creature. It took forever. He tapped his toes and sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes as he waited. Finally, he had to ask: “so, uh….you have any one-liners? Any witty words of wisdom?”
“Brains!” it lurched forward, reaching for Ash’s denim lapels.
“Woah, hands off the Ash-man!” A hatchet blow and a push sent the corpse sprawling, though the process coated Ash in gore from chin to hip. He scraped the goo from his face and glared at the twitching, globby corpse. “Do you know how long it takes me to wash this crap out?!”
The answer was hours by hand in the nearest stream of running water - which was fifty miles away.
Naturally, Ash managed to run into another cluster of the slippery bastards two minutes after moseying toward the river. One liners flew as fast as bullets while he dismembered his foes.
“Is that your face, or did your neck throw up?”
“You’ve got a face only a motherfucker could love.”
“We’ve got a special two for one sale at the S-Mart today! Buy one bullet hole, get a lobotomy! Free!”
But no, no matter how witty he got, the stock answer was another shout for brains and another lurching grab toward his head.
“You make me miss the demons,” Ash told the severed head lying by his foot.
The demons probably missed him, too. Even they couldn't lead a full-scale assault on humanity with half of them already shambling about mindlessly. It might as well be a world of bloody rain and constant pestilence - for only one man would have noticed the absence of normalcy.
Ash dealt with the punches and simply moved on to the next enemy. It was a strange new world, this post-apocalyptic one.
But as lonely as it was, it at least he had himself. And a half-full box of Twinkies, though that was beside the point.