Zombie!: The Musical, Chapter IV
Title: Zombie!: The Musical
Author: itswhatido aka racistdragon
Type of Story: Novel for NaNoWriMo contest, 2009.
Synopsis: Two outcasts in a community of outcasts join together to change everyone's perception of what it means to belong.
Part: 4 of Many. [ 1][ 2] [ 3]
Mr. and Mrs. LaMorgue were less than enthusiastic when Claire told them of Mark’s challenge. They didn’t like the idea of her eating human meat, because they thought that it might make her sick. They also weren’t sure if it would be a good idea to have a human in their house and they expressed concern over the mayor finding out and sending angry mobs with torches to their doorstep like in all the classic black and white horror movies. Claire thought that her parents’ worrying was cute. It felt nice to have them worried over her hanging out with someone, rather than worrying about her lack of friends. She saw it as them worrying in a more typical parental way, and it made her happy.
At least, she imagined that this was what happiness felt like. She’d only ever had a foggy idea about it before.
Paying attention in class had become a lot more difficult for her. That was one downside. While Miss Heath lectured the class on vampire bats, Claire doodled into her notebook and thought about the challenge; wondering what kind of strange human vegetable Mark might bring in his bag for her at recess. Anything had to be better than peanut butter.
“Miss LaMorgue,” the teacher’s voice suddenly pronounced.
Claire snapped up in her seat. “Present!”
Everyone around her laughed. She noticed that even Mark gave a little chuckle, and she felt her cheeks go hot.
“You’re obviously not present, Miss LaMorgue, or you would know why I called on you. I suggest that you pay attention in my class if you want to pass your test next Friday.”
Claire of course did want to pass the test, and she said as much in a low voice, embarrassed. She looked over at Mark and he was staring back at her. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but was instead giving her an apologetic look.
As the teacher went on with her lecture, Claire slumped down at her desk and silently prayed for recess. Josephine Arcadian passed a note onto her lap and, raising her book up to mask her hands, pointed in Mark’s direction. Claire smiled slightly at her and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’ She really had to hand it to Josephine Arcadian. She’d never met such a nice girl before, and she had no idea why she was being so nice.
Claire carefully unfolded the note and placed it on top of her notebook as though it were merely a discarded page of notes. The teacher didn’t seem to notice, as she was too busy explaining echolocation.
“I’m sorry I laughed at you,” the note said in the familiar pointy, small handwriting. “I did the same thing once before, so it’s not a big deal.”
She opened her pen and wrote back, “Why do you think I think it’s a big deal?”
His response came much faster than usual. “I saw you blush.”
Claire felt herself blushing at that, and she smiled as she wrote, “I was only blushing because I didn’t want you to think I was a big dumb idiot.”
“I don’t think you’re a big dumb idiot,” said his handwriting, and she noticed as she read that she was really starting to like its jagged edges and sometimes hard-to-decipher size. “In fact, I know you’re not. You’re smart. Smarter than most people here.”
She tapped the end of her green pen against her chin, pretending to listen to Miss Heath as she thought of an appropriate response. Finally, she settled on simplicity. “So are you.”
On the playground, Mark came over to her before it was even lunchtime. “I’ve got something to tell you that’s too funny to wait until everyone else is eating,” he declared.
Claire’s interest was piqued, but she was also still annoyed that he placed such emphasis on whether or not the other students were paying attention. “What is it?” Her voice hinted at her mild annoyance, but he didn’t seem to notice. If he did, he ignored it.
“I told my mom about our little diet challenge and she asked if it was because you were religious!”
He cracked up and she raised an eyebrow, amused but not enough to laugh. “And did you tell her that I’m a practicing Presbyterian but I don’t really let that affect my eating habits?”
Mark stopped laughing and looked surprised and slightly embarrassed. “You’re a Presbyterian?”
Claire nodded. “Yup. We don’t go to church every Sunday or anything, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t gone before, or that I haven’t read the Bible.”
“Oh…”
She smiled. “What’s the matter? You didn’t think a zombie could be religious?”
“No… Well… No. It’s not that,” he said. “It’s just that I told her no and now she might ask you. I just feel stupid that I didn’t know that.”
“You could’ve asked.”
Mark nodded absently before slowly smiling. “Oh well. Anyway, she says that it’s a great idea. She’s always been trying to get me to eat asparagus and now she’ll be able to.”
“My parents won’t be able to feed me anything,” Claire mused. “I guess I’m going to have to go shopping myself. Didn’t really think about dinner.”
He chuckled. “You have to include dinner. It’s not fair if you’re only eating vegetarian food for lunch.”
“I’ll go to the store!” She laughed and gave him a light, playful smack on the shoulder. “What’s for lunch today?”
Mark opened his lunch bag and pulled out a Zip-Loc baggie filled with a bunch of strange-looking red things. “Sliced tomato. Oh, and bread so I could make a sandwich, but you don’t have to do that.”
Claire looked at the slices of tomato, swallowing exaggeratedly. “I hope that tastes better than peanut butter.”
It turned out that the tomato did taste better than peanut butter. In fact, Claire noted that tomatoes didn’t have much of a taste at all, except for the outer parts. She wondered why humans would eat something without very much flavor.
“Well, a lot of times, humans… I mean we turn the tomatoes into ketchup. That’s more flavorful and we use that as a condiment or an added flavor to whatever we’re eating, like hot dogs and burgers and stuff. Some people even put it on their eggs and macaroni, but I think that’s disgusting.” He made a face.
“I don’t even know what eggs and macaroni are, so I guess I just have to take your word for it.” She shrugged and grinned. Normally, she found conversations about food about as exciting as conversations about tax exemptions. But, for some reason, talking about food with Mark Jones was amusing and educational at the same time.
She still wasn’t sure if she could outlast him in the no-meat challenge, however. It would be more than a little degrading if she lost, because she didn’t want him to believe the notion that zombies were killing and eating machines. Goran Price could believe that. But not Mark Jones.
Back in class, Claire found herself wishing that she could sit next to Mark, without Josephine Arcadian and Balthazar Zarkov between them. She had never really wished something like that before, and she felt it weird to wish it about someone like Mark, because even though she liked their conversations and liked spending time with him, she still felt a strange indifference about him that she couldn’t shake. She knew that she shouldn’t be so picky about her friends; particularly because she didn’t really have any, apart from him. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted the people that she called friend to be interesting. Sure, she found his different types of food interesting, and the situation involving his placement at the school was intriguing. But she wanted him himself to have something more. She couldn’t really say what. Maybe it was something that she lacked herself which she was trying to find in someone else.
Her mother told her to try not to be so picky, too, which made her feel worse about it. “He sounds like a perfectly nice boy, and at least he’s being civil to you despite your obvious differences. He doesn’t pick on you, does he?”
Claire shook her head. “He never says anything mean to me.”
“Well then, Claire, I don’t know what the problem is. Did you want him to be mean?”
“Of course not,” she replied, indignant. “I wouldn’t change anything about him. I just wish that he wasn’t so…”
Her mother raised an eyebrow.
Claire sighed. “…so likeable.”
“So you do like him?”
She nodded. “And I guess I’m just so used to people being mean or having some sort of, I don’t know, flaw or something, so when he was nice to me and didn’t mention the fact that I’ve got embarrassingly rotting skin on my face, I guess I got weirded out.”
Mrs. LaMorgue laughed pleasantly and gave her daughter a hug. “Claire, if his only flaw is being likeable, I’d say he’s a keeper.”
Claire stuck her tongue out in protest. “I’m not gonna marry him, Mom. I just think he’s a good friend.”
Her mother smiled a knowing smile. “That’s what I meant, honey.”
Author: itswhatido aka racistdragon
Type of Story: Novel for NaNoWriMo contest, 2009.
Synopsis: Two outcasts in a community of outcasts join together to change everyone's perception of what it means to belong.
Part: 4 of Many. [ 1][ 2] [ 3]
Mr. and Mrs. LaMorgue were less than enthusiastic when Claire told them of Mark’s challenge. They didn’t like the idea of her eating human meat, because they thought that it might make her sick. They also weren’t sure if it would be a good idea to have a human in their house and they expressed concern over the mayor finding out and sending angry mobs with torches to their doorstep like in all the classic black and white horror movies. Claire thought that her parents’ worrying was cute. It felt nice to have them worried over her hanging out with someone, rather than worrying about her lack of friends. She saw it as them worrying in a more typical parental way, and it made her happy.
At least, she imagined that this was what happiness felt like. She’d only ever had a foggy idea about it before.
Paying attention in class had become a lot more difficult for her. That was one downside. While Miss Heath lectured the class on vampire bats, Claire doodled into her notebook and thought about the challenge; wondering what kind of strange human vegetable Mark might bring in his bag for her at recess. Anything had to be better than peanut butter.
“Miss LaMorgue,” the teacher’s voice suddenly pronounced.
Claire snapped up in her seat. “Present!”
Everyone around her laughed. She noticed that even Mark gave a little chuckle, and she felt her cheeks go hot.
“You’re obviously not present, Miss LaMorgue, or you would know why I called on you. I suggest that you pay attention in my class if you want to pass your test next Friday.”
Claire of course did want to pass the test, and she said as much in a low voice, embarrassed. She looked over at Mark and he was staring back at her. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but was instead giving her an apologetic look.
As the teacher went on with her lecture, Claire slumped down at her desk and silently prayed for recess. Josephine Arcadian passed a note onto her lap and, raising her book up to mask her hands, pointed in Mark’s direction. Claire smiled slightly at her and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’ She really had to hand it to Josephine Arcadian. She’d never met such a nice girl before, and she had no idea why she was being so nice.
Claire carefully unfolded the note and placed it on top of her notebook as though it were merely a discarded page of notes. The teacher didn’t seem to notice, as she was too busy explaining echolocation.
“I’m sorry I laughed at you,” the note said in the familiar pointy, small handwriting. “I did the same thing once before, so it’s not a big deal.”
She opened her pen and wrote back, “Why do you think I think it’s a big deal?”
His response came much faster than usual. “I saw you blush.”
Claire felt herself blushing at that, and she smiled as she wrote, “I was only blushing because I didn’t want you to think I was a big dumb idiot.”
“I don’t think you’re a big dumb idiot,” said his handwriting, and she noticed as she read that she was really starting to like its jagged edges and sometimes hard-to-decipher size. “In fact, I know you’re not. You’re smart. Smarter than most people here.”
She tapped the end of her green pen against her chin, pretending to listen to Miss Heath as she thought of an appropriate response. Finally, she settled on simplicity. “So are you.”
On the playground, Mark came over to her before it was even lunchtime. “I’ve got something to tell you that’s too funny to wait until everyone else is eating,” he declared.
Claire’s interest was piqued, but she was also still annoyed that he placed such emphasis on whether or not the other students were paying attention. “What is it?” Her voice hinted at her mild annoyance, but he didn’t seem to notice. If he did, he ignored it.
“I told my mom about our little diet challenge and she asked if it was because you were religious!”
He cracked up and she raised an eyebrow, amused but not enough to laugh. “And did you tell her that I’m a practicing Presbyterian but I don’t really let that affect my eating habits?”
Mark stopped laughing and looked surprised and slightly embarrassed. “You’re a Presbyterian?”
Claire nodded. “Yup. We don’t go to church every Sunday or anything, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t gone before, or that I haven’t read the Bible.”
“Oh…”
She smiled. “What’s the matter? You didn’t think a zombie could be religious?”
“No… Well… No. It’s not that,” he said. “It’s just that I told her no and now she might ask you. I just feel stupid that I didn’t know that.”
“You could’ve asked.”
Mark nodded absently before slowly smiling. “Oh well. Anyway, she says that it’s a great idea. She’s always been trying to get me to eat asparagus and now she’ll be able to.”
“My parents won’t be able to feed me anything,” Claire mused. “I guess I’m going to have to go shopping myself. Didn’t really think about dinner.”
He chuckled. “You have to include dinner. It’s not fair if you’re only eating vegetarian food for lunch.”
“I’ll go to the store!” She laughed and gave him a light, playful smack on the shoulder. “What’s for lunch today?”
Mark opened his lunch bag and pulled out a Zip-Loc baggie filled with a bunch of strange-looking red things. “Sliced tomato. Oh, and bread so I could make a sandwich, but you don’t have to do that.”
Claire looked at the slices of tomato, swallowing exaggeratedly. “I hope that tastes better than peanut butter.”
It turned out that the tomato did taste better than peanut butter. In fact, Claire noted that tomatoes didn’t have much of a taste at all, except for the outer parts. She wondered why humans would eat something without very much flavor.
“Well, a lot of times, humans… I mean we turn the tomatoes into ketchup. That’s more flavorful and we use that as a condiment or an added flavor to whatever we’re eating, like hot dogs and burgers and stuff. Some people even put it on their eggs and macaroni, but I think that’s disgusting.” He made a face.
“I don’t even know what eggs and macaroni are, so I guess I just have to take your word for it.” She shrugged and grinned. Normally, she found conversations about food about as exciting as conversations about tax exemptions. But, for some reason, talking about food with Mark Jones was amusing and educational at the same time.
She still wasn’t sure if she could outlast him in the no-meat challenge, however. It would be more than a little degrading if she lost, because she didn’t want him to believe the notion that zombies were killing and eating machines. Goran Price could believe that. But not Mark Jones.
Back in class, Claire found herself wishing that she could sit next to Mark, without Josephine Arcadian and Balthazar Zarkov between them. She had never really wished something like that before, and she felt it weird to wish it about someone like Mark, because even though she liked their conversations and liked spending time with him, she still felt a strange indifference about him that she couldn’t shake. She knew that she shouldn’t be so picky about her friends; particularly because she didn’t really have any, apart from him. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted the people that she called friend to be interesting. Sure, she found his different types of food interesting, and the situation involving his placement at the school was intriguing. But she wanted him himself to have something more. She couldn’t really say what. Maybe it was something that she lacked herself which she was trying to find in someone else.
Her mother told her to try not to be so picky, too, which made her feel worse about it. “He sounds like a perfectly nice boy, and at least he’s being civil to you despite your obvious differences. He doesn’t pick on you, does he?”
Claire shook her head. “He never says anything mean to me.”
“Well then, Claire, I don’t know what the problem is. Did you want him to be mean?”
“Of course not,” she replied, indignant. “I wouldn’t change anything about him. I just wish that he wasn’t so…”
Her mother raised an eyebrow.
Claire sighed. “…so likeable.”
“So you do like him?”
She nodded. “And I guess I’m just so used to people being mean or having some sort of, I don’t know, flaw or something, so when he was nice to me and didn’t mention the fact that I’ve got embarrassingly rotting skin on my face, I guess I got weirded out.”
Mrs. LaMorgue laughed pleasantly and gave her daughter a hug. “Claire, if his only flaw is being likeable, I’d say he’s a keeper.”
Claire stuck her tongue out in protest. “I’m not gonna marry him, Mom. I just think he’s a good friend.”
Her mother smiled a knowing smile. “That’s what I meant, honey.”