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Enter The Dream Realm Vol. 70 – The Hardy Zombie Apocalypse: The Movie (Act II)

Volume Seventy

The Hardy Zombie Apocalypse: The Movie (Act II)

10/28/2010

CLICK HERE FOR ACT I

Shane turns the key and starts the engine of the van as the other six men prepare to leave.

Current Big Thing: Shotgun!

YourAyatollah: My ass! Head to the back of the bus, Ms. Parks.

Uncle Joe: Dude, that’s fucked up. Hustle’s Black.

Hustle: Damn.

Morpheus: Somebody take this sword from me before I do something we all regret.

The scene cuts to a new location, and the camera shows a long, dark stretch of road. A car pulls up and stops, and five men exit the vehicle. As the camera pans around the car to focus on the group of men, lighting along the stretch of road come into view, revealing that the long paved thoroughfare is an airfield runway. The camera completes its pan upwards when the faces of the men are revealed.

Pringle: Are you sure this is the right place?

ChrisBear: This is where Prime said to meet him.

Davie: I don’t like it here much. It’s dark, and those things are still after us.

da_shee: I don’t like it much either…

Sheepster: Why not guys? Don’t you find it at least a little exhilarating being on the lamb?

The other four men look at Sheepster blankly as he smiles a wide, innocent grin.

Pringle: Did he say why we were supposed to meet him here?

ChrisBear: Not exactly, but given that we’re at an airfield, I’m guessing it’s not to gather and catch a nice view of Maryse’s quim.

Davie: I’m a bit young for that sort of business, don’t you think?

da_shee: How old are you, mate?

Davie: According to my forum profile, I’m 14 years old.

ChrisBear: No big deal, mate. I lost my virginity at 12.

Pringle: Bear…

ChrisBear: Ok, 14.

Pringle: Really…

ChrisBear: 18.

Pringle: Wrong.

ChrisBear: 21.

Pringle: Dammit, Chris!

ChrisBear: Ok, fine. Hope to by 30.

Pringle: That’s better.

da_shee: For who?

Sheepster: For everyone concerned.

Pringle: Yeah, so let’s steer the conversation away from such matters, shall we?

Sheepster: Yes, I think it’s time we clam up about such things.

Again, the four men stop and stare at Sheepster’s obvious pleasure with himself.

da_shee: Oh, I don’t like this one bit.

Davie: Yeah, Sheep. That was pretty bad.

da_shee: No, not that. This.

da_shee holds his laptop up for the rest of the men to see.

ChrisBear: And the Fourth Wall comes crashing down…

Davie: My God…

da_shee: Yes. I’m afraid we need to hope for slow readers. If there are any speed readers in the crowd…

Pringle: They could drastically increase our chances at kicking off before this thing is out.

da_shee: Exactly.

ChrisBear: Well, luckily for us most wrestling fans are stereotyped as idiots then, eh fellas?

Sheepster: I think Pioneer is my favourite stereotype, largely because Bose is just too expensive.

Voice: Sweet Christ, that joke just made me need to change my knickers, and not in the good way. Now will one of you bastards help me out of this car, or should I just stay here and fiddle with my giblets while you stand around with your thumbs up your arses?

ChrisBear: Shit, sorry Granddad.

Granddad Tommy: Damn right you are, rotten kid. And to think I gave you your first beer. When you were four. I think it did some permanent damage.

ChrisBear leans into the car and helps Granddad Tommy to his feet, after which he reaches past him to get his cane.

ChrisBear: Here you go, Granddad.

Granddad Tommy: About time. My arse about fused to the seat, we’ve been in there so long. Whose brilliant idea was it to rent a damn Volkswagen Golf for six people anyway?

Pringle: Well, we were kind of short on cash…

Granddad Tommy: And not very high on brains either, I might add. And I’m relying on you to get me through this Zombie bullshit? Chris, boy, take me to see Father O’Malley.

ChrisBear: What? Why?

Granddad Tommy: Because with you bunch of puffers in charge, I’m gonna need my Last Rites sooner than later!

Davie: Now, I don’t think that’s very fair.

Granddad Tommy: Boy, your mouth is like a whippoorwill’s arse in the Spring. Always open.

Davie: I don’t get it.

Pringle: Why did we bring him along again?

Granddad Tommy: Because without me, Chris is nothing. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be writing open love letters to some slag’s gash. Someone has to make Chris appear funny.

Sheepster: But I think Bear is a rather handsome fellow.

Granddad Tommy: Bunch of benders you hang around with, boy. I don’t know whether I should be happy you found so many of your own kind, or bloody ashamed that our bloodline ends with you.

Pringle: Ha! Chris, even your own Grandfather thinks you’re a wanker!

Granddad Tommy: You badmouth my boy again, and I swear I’ll be shoving my cane so far up your arse you’ll be tasting wood!

ChrisBear: Thanks, Granddad.

Granddad Tommy: Shut it, tosser.

da_shee: Guys, someone’s coming.

A car rounds the corner and appears at the far end of the runway, heading toward the assembled group.

ChrisBear: That should be Prime now.

da_shee: I sure as hell hope so. I don’t like being out here in the open so exposed like this. Perhaps it might be better if we took some shelter behind those buildings that are conveniently located within camera shot of our current location.

Pringle: And again the Fourth Wall shatters.

ChrisBear: People like you are the reason kayfabe died, you know that?

Davie: What’s kayfabe?

Granddad Tommy: I need a beer and a some wagon wheels if I’m going to keep with you lot.

Sheepster: Did you know the Germans invented Fanta because Hitler hated Jews? No wait, that’s not right…

Pringle: Sounds spot on to me.

Suddenly, a group of Hardy Zombies comes charging at the group of men from behind the aforementioned nearby building. The Zombies set upon the men and catch them off guard.

Granddad Tommy: Watch your back, lad!

Davie: Wha-

The two Zombies leading the charge knock Davie and Sheepster down to the ground before either has a chance to react. A larger group of Zombies continues to bear down on the rest of the men.

Davie: Get off me! Help!

ChrisBear: Pop the trunk, Pringle. We need to arm up, and fast.

Pringle: It’s Crunch Time.

ChrisBear: Now that was just bad, mate.

da_shee: Don’t blame him. It’s not like he’s the one writing this.

ChrisBear: Your kids are never going to know Santa Claus are they?

Sheepster: Juice! That was the word! Not Jews, Juice! The Germans made Fan- OWWW!!!

Granddad Tommy: Would one of you nutters just open the blooming trunk already?

Pringle opens the trunk and begins passing weapons to ChrisBear and da_shee. As the men gather their weapons and their wits, the Zombies fall upon them, and a fierce battle begins. The three younger men attempt to hold back a wave of about a dozen Zombies, while Granddad Tommy limps slowly backward on his cane away from the fray.

Sheepster: What’s wrong, you Zombies don’t like puns? Everybody likes a good pu- Gah! My Spleen!

Zombies: …Angelic Diablo… …Hates Mustard…

ChrisBear: Looks like these Zombies are into dealing out some PUNishment, eh Sheep?

Sheepster: Ha! PUNishment! I like that o- Ack!

Davie: Get this thing off of me!

da_shee: Kick him in the nards!

Davie: Hardy Zombies don’t have nards!

Pringle: Just do it!

Davie: Well, alright.

Zombie: … I can slap a tornaDOH!…

Davie: Whoa… Zombie’s got nards.

ChrisBear: Looks like these blokes need to beef up on their testicular fortitude.

da_shee: That was for you, Kid Coheed.

ChrisBear: Fuck, Shee! Really?

As the testicularly damaged Zombie slumps off of Davie, two more make their way from behind the buildings and begin to stalk Granddad Tommy.

Granddad Tommy: This what you knob jockeys really want then? Be careful what you wish for, boys.

Pringle: Guys, Tommy’s in trouble. We’ve got to help him!

Granddad Tommy: It’s alright, lads. I can handle these two bastards.

Granddad Tommy picks up his cane in both hands and does a backflip over the heads of the two approaching Hardy Zombies as they reach out to grab him. As he travels through the air, he twists the cane, and pulls it apart into two pieces; one a wooden shaft, the other a sharp steel blade.

Pringle: Holy shit! Sword cane, FTW!

ChrisBear: Has he always had that?

da_shee: He’s your grandfather. Why are you asking us?

As Tommy lands deftly behind the Zombies, they turn to face him as two more of their ranks join them in the fray.

Granddad Tommy: Bring it, bitches.

The Zombies rush Tommy and a fierce battle ensues; one in which it becomes evident that these four Hardy Zombies had extensive Martial Arts training before they unfortunately had their intelligence and free will sapped by this affliction. Tommy fights like a spinning ball of fury, parrying attacks with his cane and slicing away at his opponents with his sword. Fingers and increasingly large portions of limbs begin flying left and right as Tommy becomes a whirlwind of doom.

Sheepster: Seems old Tommy swings well, but he’s got a wicked slice.

Pringle: Oh for the love of…

Granddad Tommy: Be careful not to lose your heads, boys!

da_shee: See? Now THAT was an acceptable pun.

Everyone, person and Zombie alike, stop dead in their tracks and stare wide-eyed as Tommy continues his relentless onslaught. He leaps into the air, and with a spinning attack beheads the four Zombies in quick succession as he lands. He looks at the four bodies as they hit the ground and nods his head in satisfaction. He returns the sword cane to its sheath, and begins limping toward the other men, using his cane for support. When he notices them all staring, he stops in his tracks.

Granddad Tommy: What the hell are all you nutters staring at?

ChrisBear: How did you…

da_shee: You can barely walk!

Pringle: That was some serious Yoda shit right there.

Granddad Tommy: Hey! Fellas! Less attention to the old man, more attention to the attacking horde of undead idiots, ok?

The men return their attention to the Zombies just a moment too late, as the Zombies begin to press their attack anew. The Zombie that Davie kicked in the scrote earlier begins to attack him in a particularly feral rage.

Davie: Ack! Get off me! I’m too young to d-

The Zombie goes in for the kill, tearing out Davie’s throat.

ChrisBear: Oh my God! They killed Davie!

Pringle: You Bastards!

Granddad Tommy: Looks like you were just about the right age, lad. Me, on the other hand? I’m too old for this shit.

Four more Zombies make their way out from behind the buildings as the second car finally makes its way onto the scene. As the car skids to a halt, the doors open and five men get out.

Prime Time: You blokes need a hand?

Johnny Boomerang: Looks like we arrived just in time.

Joey Shinobi: I wouldn’t bet on it. Looks like the little one’s a tad worse for wear.

fenixx: Lock and load, gents.

priest: Time for these sinners to repent.

The new arrivals brandish their firearms and begin to make short work of the Zombies. The two groups of men working together overpower and defeat the Zombies in relatively short order.

Prime Time: Is everyone ok?

ChrisBear: You mean besides the kid, right?

Prime Time: Clearly.

Joey Shinobi: Looks like all is well on our side.

Granddad Tommy: Well, those of us left standing appear to be no worse for wear.

Pringle: Oh man, Sheepster. That’s a nasty cut.

Sheepster: Well, would you look at that. I’m bleating.

The nine men stand there staring blankly as a wide grin comes across Sheepster’s face.

ChrisBear: Yup, he’s fine.

Granddad Tommy: So you’re Prime Time then, eh, lad?

Prime Time: That’s right, sir. And you must be Granddad Tommy. Pleased to make your acquaintance.

Granddad Tommy: I bet you are. You want to tell me why you had us all come out here and get ambushed by those charvers?

ChrisBear: I was about to ask that myself.

Pringle: More importantly, why is it that we were chosen to be brought together here?

Johnny Boomerang: Isn’t it obvious?

Joey Shinobi: I thought it was quite clear.

ChrisBear: Apparently not.

Johnny Boomerang: It’s because we’re all British.

Sheepster: Ahem…

Joey Shinobi: Alright, alright. We’re all from the U.K.

fenixx: Actually, I’m from Australia.

ChrisBear: Ok, so you’re a British Convict then.

fenixx: I still don’t see how that…

da_shee: In this case, it may not be such a bad thing to be considered as originating from the United Kingdom, fenixx.

fenixx: Why is that?

da_shee opens his laptop, types something quickly, and turns it around for everyone to see.

da_shee: So as you can see, this little ethnic mix-up works in your favor.

ChrisBear: Seriously, Shee. What happened to you as a child?

priest: It wasn’t me.

Pringle: Ok, so we’re all British. Ish. That’s just dandy. Now why are we here?

Sheepster: Such an existential question is bound to have a multitude of answers, depending on one’s perspective and interpretation.

Granddad Tommy: Why couldn’t he have been the one to die?

Sheepster: Well, now, that’s just mean. Meanie.

da_shee: No wonder these take so long to write.

ChrisBear: Remind me never to hire you as an actor. Seriously.

Joey Shinobi: Back to the topic at hand, please.

Prime Time: Well, gents, I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news. This disease is spreading here faster than we can control. According to the calculations that have been run by our team of scientists, and the probability matrix applied to them, it would appear that despite our best efforts, Europe will fall. From then, Asia will only be a matter of time.

ChrisBear: My God.

priest: His blessings upon you, my child.

Pringle: But my whole family… My friends. Everything I know is here! We have to help them.

Johnny Boomerang: It’s too late, mate. There’s just not enough time.

Granddad Tommy: How much time are we talking here, lads?

Prime Time: Well, France has already fallen, largely due to their lack of balls and unwillingness to fight.

Joey Shinobi: Heh. Nice.

Johnny Boomerang: Spain fell shortly thereafter, followed quickly by Austria, Sweden, and most of Fennoscandia.

Pringle: Jesus Christ!

priest steps up and slaps Pringle in the face.

priest: Watch your mouth, asshole.

Joey Shinobi: Heh. That just happened.

Prime Time: Germany is expected to hold for at least another week or so, what with their insanity and all. But in the end it is likely that they too shall fall.

Pringle: I don’t care about all these other places. I care about here! What about the U.K.?

A moment of silence passes as the new arrivals all share a long look. Finally, the other four men look away as Prime Time turns to Pringle.

Prime Time: I’m afraid she’s barely got another sunrise left in her.

ChrisBear: You can’t be serious!

Johnny Boomerang: I’m afraid he is, mate.

da_shee: It makes sense as a mechanism for advancing the plot.

ChrisBear: I hate you right now, you know that?

Pringle: So what the hell are we going to do? Why did you bring us all here?

Prime Time: Well, while Europe is on its last legs, there is one place left where we can help fight the good fight and increase our odds of survival.

Granddad Tommy: Yeah, but Antarctica’s colder than a witch’s tittie. Better to die toasty warm than iced on a berg, if you ask me.

Prime Time: Not Antarctica. America.

Sheepster: Say goodbye to Old York, say hello to New York!

Granddad Tommy: Well then, how the hell are we supposed to hop across the pond? You had us meet you at the only airport I’ve ever been to that didn’t have any goddamn planes!

Prime Time: Oh, that’s not a problem. I called in a favor from an old friend of mine. He’ll be meeting us here with his private jet soon.

fenixx: Hopefully sooner than later. I don’t like the idea of hanging around here with those things around. Who knows how many of them there are…

Just then, guttural growling noises are heard as another rush of Hardy Zombies begins to charge out from behind the buildings.

da_shee: Seriously, it’s like I’m not even here.

ChrisBear: I’m really starting to get tired of these things.

Granddad Tommy: I’ll shoot a snake with gun, but I bloody hate spiders.

Johnny Boomerang: What does that even mean?

The Zombies descend upon the group of men and a heated battle ensues. The men are fiercely fighting for their lives with melee weapons and firearms, but they are outnumbered nearly three to one. As the fighting ensues, the men are pushed back against the cars and are given no quarter, and little room to maneuver. In the heat of the battle, Johnny Boomerang is taken down by several Zombies.

Joey Shinobi: No! Johnny! WHY?!?

da_shee: Probably because the writer doesn’t know who he is.

ChrisBear: Sweet mother of- GAH!

The fighting continues at a frenetic pace, all the while the men continue to lose their ground. Suddenly one Zombie just drops to the ground. A few seconds later, another drops, followed by another. As the camera moves in the confusion to focus on the fallen Zombies, the view shows that they all have had crossbow bolts buried into their brainstems.

Prime Time: Where the hell are those coming from?

Pringle: I don’t know mate, but let’s work it to our advantage.

Sheepster: KHAN!!!

The men redouble their efforts as the crossbow bolts continue to fly and take out one Zombie after another. A few moments of fast-paced action later, and the men emerge victorious. They lean back against the cars in exhaustion as they try to regroup and regain their strength.

Prime Time: Now where the hell did those crossbow bolts come from?

A sharp whistle is heard coming from the direction of the buildings. The men watch as a single figure begins to step forward. As he leaves the shadows of the buildings and steps into the fading rays of the sunset, it becomes clear who their savior is.

ChrisBear: Anonymous!

Sheepster: Nony! Team ASS for the block!

Anonymous smiles sadly and nods once at his long-time friend. He whistles a second time and a horse comes galloping up from behind the empty hangar. Anonymous slings the crossbow over his shoulder and grabs the horse around the neck, mounting up.

ChrisBear: Wait, Nony! Aren’t you coming with us?

Anonymous smiles once more and shakes his head. He looks around at all the men gathered, and gives them a final brief nod. He raises his hand in salute.

Sheepster: Goodbye, Nonymod! We’ll never forget you!

Anonymous waves his goodbye as his horse rears on its hind legs. With a kick from his rider, the horse leaps into a full gallop, taking off down the runway. The nine surviving men watch as he rides off into the sunset.

da_shee: Now that was just cliche…

ChrisBear: And now you’re just being a dick.

To Be Continued…

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