1 shotgun shell: the early Ash catches the undead
[he'd said The Words after that wiseass wiseman, Spinach Chin, told them to him. they'd done it that way for safety's sake - Ash hadn't been happy, but he wasn't about to argue. he didn't want another fight with the Deadites any more than the rest of them did, and The Car certainly wasn't up to another beating. they'd rolled it into the cave, and he'd rolled the cloak Sheila gave him into a pillow before climbing into the driver's seat for his long, long, long, long, long nap. and the last thing he remembered was the last of the light winking out of sight as Arthur and his men rolled the boulder in front of it.
so something doesn't seem quite right when he wakes up to find sunlight streaming through the mouth of the cave, beating right down through the windshield of his Olds, and baking him alive. stretching, he kicks the car door open, reaching into the backseat for his beloved Boomstick and slinging it into the holster his back, just in case]
Hey, hello?
[he gets about two steps from the door before a wicked charley horse seizes his calf, and he comes crashing down, clutching at the side mirror to keep from completely falling on his ass]
YAAAAAUGH godDAMMIT!
[catches his breath and sits there for a second, rubbing the OW out of his legs. sleeping for a few hundred years will do that to you, apparently. gets to his feet, grudgingly, and plods outside, fully ready to see some sort of suburbia, or maybe smokestacks in the distance, or the edge of a highw--]
Okay. Awright. I'm pretty sure that I should be lookin' at something a little more modern than a castle, here. Or, if not? This ain't Arthur's castle. Arthur's castle didn't have this many towers.
[pauses a moment to count them off on his fingers] Yeah. Definitely not that many. Maybe when Spinach Chin put me to sleep, the mojo took a wrong turn at Albuquerque. ... It couldn'a been me. I didn't say the words wrong. I know I didn't. It ...
No, it couldn'a been me. No. ... No way. [moves back into the cave to look around, and spots the journal on the ground]
Oh. Ohhhhh no. No, no, no. NO MORE BOOKS. You hear me?
[picks up the journal and shakes it at the universe in general. he's probably getting dirt and muck all over the pages]
YA HEAR ME? I'M NOT DEALING WITH ANY MORE OF YOUR GODDAMN BOOKS!
so something doesn't seem quite right when he wakes up to find sunlight streaming through the mouth of the cave, beating right down through the windshield of his Olds, and baking him alive. stretching, he kicks the car door open, reaching into the backseat for his beloved Boomstick and slinging it into the holster his back, just in case]
Hey, hello?
[he gets about two steps from the door before a wicked charley horse seizes his calf, and he comes crashing down, clutching at the side mirror to keep from completely falling on his ass]
YAAAAAUGH godDAMMIT!
[catches his breath and sits there for a second, rubbing the OW out of his legs. sleeping for a few hundred years will do that to you, apparently. gets to his feet, grudgingly, and plods outside, fully ready to see some sort of suburbia, or maybe smokestacks in the distance, or the edge of a highw--]
Okay. Awright. I'm pretty sure that I should be lookin' at something a little more modern than a castle, here. Or, if not? This ain't Arthur's castle. Arthur's castle didn't have this many towers.
[pauses a moment to count them off on his fingers] Yeah. Definitely not that many. Maybe when Spinach Chin put me to sleep, the mojo took a wrong turn at Albuquerque. ... It couldn'a been me. I didn't say the words wrong. I know I didn't. It ...
No, it couldn'a been me. No. ... No way. [moves back into the cave to look around, and spots the journal on the ground]
Oh. Ohhhhh no. No, no, no. NO MORE BOOKS. You hear me?
[picks up the journal and shakes it at the universe in general. he's probably getting dirt and muck all over the pages]
YA HEAR ME? I'M NOT DEALING WITH ANY MORE OF YOUR GODDAMN BOOKS!