A Night to Forget (A Creative Project) (Pt.3)

(For pt. 2, see here.)

Fullmetal Zombies: Rocking Hard in the Pointless Ether

This is crazy, you say to yourself, reminding yourself that nothing makes you saner than speaking to yourself. I remind you, though, that this is just the way things are and that if you didn’t want things to turn out this way, then maybe you should have made better decisions about who you…

Small tidings—the outside is nice. That is, until a zombie mistakes you for a human and munches on you.

 

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The zombie genre has really let itself go… it panders too much to the middle class. These are, without a doubt, the worst fucking zombies I have ever seen.

 

“Fucking ass; I’m not playing!” you shout, gently reminding the sleep deprived live-action role-player that you have not signed up this term to play their sporting event. The zombie shuffles off, chastised by your holy write. Today is not off to a good start; but, as the saying goes… I dunno, you dunno; the point is, here comes Joker.

“Hey, bro”, says Joker, wearing his iconic military helmet with the peace sign and the ‘Born to Kill’ slogan on it.

 

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To kill what, though? That is the question.

 

You have already had enough of this shit and you have only endured one film’s manifestation; if this shit keeps up, it will be a very long day indeed.

You ignore Joker. Maybe if you ignore him he will go away. Unlikely, but it is worth a shot, like shooting Trump a dirty look (metaphorically speaking, of course).

But, Joker grabs you by the arm. I guess delusions do not play the “ignoring us” game. Pity.

“So” Joker continues, “what do you think is the best way to cross this no man’s land and not get devoured by those beasts?” he says, pointing to the lazily dressed students; you wonder how Joker sees the world. “I don’t want my ass to get rammed by those freaks; just getting over here I lost a couple of guys. Bastards!” You have no idea what on Earth Joker is talking about.

Nonetheless, Joker refuses to let your arm go as he forces you across the street, occasionally popping off a round from his rifle which dematerializes as soon as the bullet would strike someone. This idea brings a whole new meaning to the old phrase, ‘War, what is it good for? Nothing!’ But, now that you look around, your surroundings do look a bit like Vietnamese architecture. Maybe it is just your hangover, though.

In any case, you magically pull a gun from your pocket—I guess reality has completely gone from the world, now—and start randomly shooting at things in order to impress Joker… or get on to the next film.

Whatever.

Seeing as how every imaginary bullet you fire has no effect, it is a fairly useless exercise, though. You are rapidly losing the point of this event. Why is anything of this happening? Why? #Existentialism, my friend.

Finally, though, you make it into the student center, pretty sure that everyone you have come across is convinced you are crazy. The moment you enter the center, Joker hands you a condom. “Use it wisely,” he says “When you getting sucked real good and long time, you don’t want to get the clap.”

And with that, he vanishes as he rushes off into the distance shouting about the Jungian thing.

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