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…ring…ring…ring…

Steve: Hello?

Eric: Hey, it’s me.

S:  What’s up?

E:  I have that Nothing Less Than Fabulous article to write and there’s not a [dirty word] idea in my head.  I went for a walk, ‘cause that normally shakes the ideas loose in my head, but it’s been nearly a mile and half and I got nothin’.  Nothin’.  You got anything?

S:  Huh.  Well, what happened this week?  Didn’t anything happen that gave you an idea or something?

E:  Not a damn thing.

S: Wasn’t this week the last Veronica Mars?  I know you’re all sad about that.  Maybe you could write about the fact that sassy teen detectives are going by the wayside.  That’s something…

E:  Maybe.

S:  Except for that Nancy Drew movie.  That looks like it could be cute.

E: I like the previews I’ve seen, but it looks like it’s aimed right at the tweens.

S: That could be true.  That would suck.

E: Yeah.  I was actually thinking about posting that short story I wrote that one time.

S: Which one?

E: The one where the zombie falls in love with the mechanic?  Zombies are totally hot right now, you know.

S: Did you tell me about that story?

E: I think so.  It takes place in the not too distant future, and there’s this procedure that’s really expensive that only rich people can get.  The thing is, the procedure’s illegal, and it’s kind of like back-alley abortions decades before Roe v. Wade, so only rich people can get it for their loved ones.  A doctor can activate some higher brain functions within 24 hours of death, but the dead people, all their muscles and stuff are dead so they can’t move.  They have to wear a robotic suit (kind of Borg-like) in order to be able to talk and walk.  So a mechanic puts on the suit and makes sure it’s working.  The whole procedure is done so that grieving families can get some closure with dead loved ones, or learn where the stocks and bonds are hidden, or whatever.

S: I think I remember this.  What happens?

E: The doctor and mechanic revive this guy who drowned who’s in his late 20’s.  After the doctor revives him, the mechanic walks with him around his giant yard to make sure the suit’s working properly.  And they talk and kind of fall in love.  The mechanic asks the zombie what he remembers after dying, and the zombie says, “Nothing.  I don’t remember anything.” The mechanic says that he asks all the zombies he works with that question, and sometimes people remember a bright light, but nothing more than that.  As they’re walking towards the house, the police pull up.  One cop, who’s kind of a rookie, freaks out at the sight of the zombie in the borg suit and starts shooting and kills the mechanic and re-kills the zombie.  It’s totally tragic.

S: Ooh, poignant.

E: Thanks!  The twist is that you realize at the end that the story’s being told from the perspective of the mechanic who’s also been zombie-fied after he was shot and killed.  And he remembers EVERYTHING from being dead.  And it’s not good.  He remembers seeing a bright light and heading towards it, seeing everyone below him, and realizing that his zombie lover is trapped and can’t get to the light, because he was zombie-fied after he was dead.  There’s something about the procedure that leaves you wandering the earthly plane, FOREVER.  So the mechanic storyteller knows that he’s going to be trapped wandering the earth for all eternity, and vows to find the soul of his zombie friend because he now feels responsible for kind of damning him.

S:  That’s so sad.

E: I know!  I kind of like the idea for the story but I’m a little afraid that it might accidentally come off as pro-life when I’m so totally NOT.  What have you been up to?

S: I have to fire a temp.

E: Really?

S: Yeah, I have to fire her.  Well, call the agency that sent her and tell her that it’s not working out.

E:  What’s not working out?

S:  She’s not learning anything.  And it’s not like you should know everything there is to know after being somewhere for three weeks, especially only coming in three days a week, but we have to show her every single time she comes in where to find the files.

E: That’s pretty bad.

S: It’s really not working out.

E: Is she kind of frumpy?  I don’t know why but I picture her as kind of frumpy.

S: She’s mousy and has a skin condition.

E: Oh no.

S: I know.  It’s terrible.  And her name is Fred.

E: Did you say Fred?  Like Flintstone?

S: Exactly.  Fred.

E: Oh no.  That sounds like a girl who needs superpowers.

S: Yes.  Exactly.  She totally deserves them.

E: I know what I’m going to write about now.

S: Really?

E: For real.

S: Cool.  I’ll see you Friday when we record.

E: Awesome.  Have a good night.

S: You too.  Bye!

* click *

One upon a time there was a girl named Fred…

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