Attack of the
Living Alive
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Attack of the Living Alive
I had some Worm-Away held in my hand when I
heard the news. Later on, everyone would say they could remember where
they were when the news first hit. Myself? I was in the supermarket
and I even remembered what I had in my basket. There was some hair freshener,
anti-bacterial gel, tweezers (for those annoying little bugs that get under
your skin), moisturiser, and of course the essential needle and thread.
There had always been rumours of the living, hiding somewhere, possibly
underground in an old nuclear bunker. I distinctly remember staring at
the can of Tinned Animal Brains (tm) that I had just picked up and thinking
that I could barely recall the taste of fresh human brain. Thank goodness
we didn’t have to eat that rubbish again. Wasn’t it technically
cannibalism? It had been around 56 years since I last had some.
Animal brains were obviously more hygienic. But it was best not to
think too much about which animals’ brains. The news had come on the
televisions in the electronics aisle. Electronics being one of those
purchases that always seemed to need replacing. They always seemed to
last only just past the warranty, and then stop working completely. The
news reporter on the screen didn’t need replacing (although he was probably way
passed his warranty); his repair work was exceptional. After a rather
ominous title jingle, he began to speak.
“Residents of a
village on the outskirts of London were evacuated early this morning amidst the
discovery of a recently abandoned….”
A bunker had been
discovered. Door wide open, with evidence that people had been living
there. There were a few interviews from residents, worried about how the
living were more resilient than us, faster and above all, dangerous. Not
only dangerous to our health, but apparently dangerous to our moral standards.
There was even somebody complaining about how the living would take all
our jobs and were definitely not welcome in this country. Anyway it was
all scaremongering; the news always made things sound worse than they probably
were. But as of yet no living had been spotted. Obviously, there
had already been a search of the usual living habitats; cinemas, shopping malls
and radio stations. They had even looked in the hospitals, a common
hang-out for those afflicted with a heartbeat. Nothing. Anyone who
spotted a living person was to call the emergency services immediately.
Strangely, the telephone number that they displayed on the news was very
similar to my local take-away.
I needed to pick
up a couple of extra things from the shelves, not too much though. I
didn’t want my basket to get too heavy as I didn’t want a repeat of the
incident last week. I was sure I hadn’t sewn it back on straight.
Walking down the aisles, I spotted the next thing on my list; those little
pine tree things. You know, those smelly things that used to go in cars.
Of course, they now served a much more needed purpose. I don’t
think there was a person in the world that didn’t have one, or at least one of
the copy-cat brands. That company had definitely benefited from the
so-called “End of the World.” At least that’s what everyone had started
calling it back in ‘68 when it had all began. There was a few years
afterwards where everything has been a little chaotic, but then everyone had just
accepted it and got on with their lives (so to speak). Nothing much had
really changed. The world had continued to turn. And as I reached
the end of the aisle to get to the checkout I decided some things definitely
didn’t change. Queues were still just as long. In fact, they may
have been longer.
As the queue
lurched forward I managed to pick up some anti-fungal spray. Oh, and some
rat poison. That was always handy. It stopped things being nibbled
during the night. Not that anyone slept these days. But old habits
die hard. There was some moron a few places in front of me who had a
trolley full of items. This was the eleven items or less line.
People should really follow the rules; they were there for a reason.
And if I gambled I would guess that they would hold up the queue further
when they got to the checkout. I bet they would either have lots of
coupons or have trouble with paying. You know, several cards ‘wouldn’t
work’ even though they would swear they definitely had cash in their account.
Then they would spend what seemed like hours trying to find every spare
bit of change in every nook and crevice. Why didn’t people keep all their
money in the same place? I considered myself a very patient person.
Except when it comes to supermarket queues. Hmm…maybe they should
have a moron queue and a normal person queue.
I rolled my eyes
as the moron reached the checkout.
Ah. Yes. Coupons.
After they had
been dealt with and a bit of shuffling forward of the normal people in the
queue, I finally got served.
“£20.14” the girl
behind the checkout drawled as I reached the front. Her hair was pulled
so tight in a ponytail her scalp was coming apart from her forehead. I
could clearly see the white of her skull through the split. It looked
like she had made a half-baked attempt to staple her skin back together; it
really hadn’t worked.
“You should try
some superglue for that.” I said to her.
“What?”
I motioned with my
head towards her hairline.
“I’m sorry?”
“Never mind.” I
handed over my credit card. The girl gave me a slightly condescending
look as she swiped it though the machine.
“Thanks
umm….Jeremy.” I said, looking at her name badge as she passed my card back with
a receipt.
“It’s my
boyfriend’s.”
“Huh?”
“It’s his shirt.
He stacks the shelves?” She seemed slightly annoyed. Why was
she wearing his shirt? Were they sharing? Is minimum wage really
that low?
“Ok….good for
you.” I quickly grabbed my carrier bag and made for the exit.
Walking to my car
I suddenly had a feeling I’d forgotten something. I quickly patted down
my pockets. Yep. Got my wallet, my car keys and my house keys.
Damn. It must have been something from my shopping list. Oh
well, I thought to myself, it can’t have been anything important. I was
sure I would remember what it was when I got home.
I took out my car
keys and walked around to the boot of my car. It was only a short walk
from the store to the car but the handles of the carrier bag had already
started to dig into my hand. I’d have to make some repairs before getting
behind the wheel. Why couldn’t someone make carrier bags with handles
that didn’t cut right through your skin?
As I closed the
boot, it seemed to make a much louder, harsher noise. Then I heard the
screams to my left. I slowly turned, and there in front of me, alive, was
a man. He looked fresh. And angry. He was also holding a
shotgun.
Before I knew it I
was on the floor, my ears ringing from the shotgun blast; my fingers found
themselves feeling the cavity made in my chest.
Yes.
There was something
I’d forgotten.
Poly-filler.
Then use Probert’s Poly-filler!
Stays malleable for up to ten minutes during application and still flexible once dry!
Use the most durable and trusted filler on the market.
Probert’s Poly-filler.
Stay fixed. Stay whole. Stay together.”
Art by Tim Jenkins
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