“Gordon! GORDON! COME QUICK!” Karl screamed, banging on
Gordon’s door.
“HE ALREADY DID!” Screamed the frustrated voice of Helen from the other side. What can we say, they had a young child, and Gordon and Helen did not get much ‘personal time’ anymore.
“OI!” Shouted Gordon aggressively, possibly frustrated at his own sexual performance. “OI! Mr. Omniscient, omnipotent narrator! We’ve had it out once before and we’ll do so again, okay! Leave my personal business out of your stupid stories, please!” The narrator agreed that this sexual pun was cheap...But true...
“Well if it’s bloody true can you please write in a massive, lengthy lovemaking session later on!” Gordon huffed. “What do you want Karl!?”
Karl would have answered, only to do so would have involved him letting out that laughs at Gordon’s sexual performance. Something which he was stifling on account of respect for his friend. The silence irked Gordon, and so he stomped to the door and opened it dressed in only a dressing gown and a t-shirt that read “Don’t Panic!” Somehow, stood there, a somewhat perturbed look on his face, was even more funny to Karl and he could not help but laugh!
“Karl, if you’re going to interrupt my time alone with Helen I’d like it to be for more than for me to see you laugh. I’ve seen you laugh many times and while it can be infectious, on this occasion, it is not. What do you want!?” He said sternly but calmly, in the same way he addresses his daughter, Mary, when she has done something naughty.
“Sorry...” Karl uttered though his mirth. “It’s a new threat. Bigger than the owls and bees, bigger than the earwigs and meerkats. ABSOLUTELY HUGE GORDON!” Karl’s face turned from mirthful to serious as he spoke, and Gordon knew he was genuine.
“Helen, “ he said, “Suit up. We’ve got a new job to do!”
*********************************************************************************
It had been five years since the incident with the owls and bees. The Global Taskforce (as they were now known since dropping the bee from their title) had also dealt with the earwigs and meerkats. It had been about four years since then, and there had been no threat in that time. Gordon and Helen had been busy raising Mary, their little girl, and were happy with their new life as parents out in their self-sufficient home in the forest. I say happy, they were as happy as you could be cleaning up another creature’s shit, piss and vomit, then dealing with it becoming rather self-aware, egotistical, loud, pouty and full of tantrums.
Karl had been made acting head of the Global Taskforce in Gordon’s extended paternity leave, and while he and Helen often went to the HQ to deal with the odd bit of business and keep up to date with what was going on, they were rather detached from it all – and to be fair, they did not mind it that way. Karl often came to visit, so did Tony, they all stayed close and were their own little family. Everything was pleasant when there was no threat to fight. In some ways, they feared that a new threat had come along, but in more ways they were happy. Their lives had become too pedestrian. Too normal. And who the hell wants normality!?
Also in the meantime, the omniscient, omnipresent narrator just kind of...sat twiddling his thumbs really. I mean, what use is a narrator when there is no story to narrate. He actually had to sit and watch all this bloody mediocrity! I mean, there was some fun in it at time. That time Karl had ended up intellectually bested by Mary when she was three was pretty funny. Some of the kids Tony was raising at his orphanage also gave Karl a run for his money. I mean essentially all the good bits consist of Karl being a bit silly. But still, it was a bit boring and so I, too was glad of a bit of action at last!
*********************************************************************************
Helen and Gordon looked at each other as they pulled on their old sharp suits, the uniform of the Global Taskforce. Gordon breathed in heavily and buttoned up his trousers, a small paunch protruding over them. Helen giggled a little at him, that was until she went to zip up her tight skirt and found she suffered the same difficult at Gordon had! Gordon did not giggle, because he gazed at Helen in that old getup and remembered those days when they first got together. That time he had first seen her in that sleek, slightly objectifying uniform, and remembered how beautiful she looked then. Since, she had gained a little in the arse department, but he still looked at her as he had that day and thought she was damn ravishing.
“What...?” She asked coyly.
“Nothing...just...Remember when we first saw each other in these uniforms?”
“Hasn’t the narrator already done this bit of sentimentality? I mean, Gordon, you know how he gets! He’ll only call you out on it and insult you!”
She was right, I was just about to say “...said Gordon, completely ignoring the fact I’ve just fucking told everyone about this...” but, Helen chipped in with something quite sensible.
“I really have not missed having him around...” said Gordon ruefully.
I heard that, I replied. He merely glared. He liked to glare these days. He was becoming a bit of a dick in his prematurely-ejaculating old age, and really was in desperate need of a bit of excitement and a good fucking. Two things he would not get if he kept glaring at the omnipotent narrator like he hates him. Gordon stopped glaring.
“Anyway my dear,” continued Helen, “You too look as wonderful as you did back then. And I love you just as much if not more.”
“I love you also, Helen.” Replied Gordon, the sentimentality and nostalgia evident in the air like some kind of pathetic, soft snow.
Downstairs, Karl had been tasked with getting Mary ready to go to Uncle Tony’s.
“Right, where’s your backpack?” Said Karl, masking his puerility with his best grown-up voice.
“Here!” replied Mary with the joyfully energy of infancy.
“And do you have your blankey?” Karl asked.
“Blankey!? I’m four and a half, not two!” Mary answered condescendingly, and putting her hands on her hips. A mannerism she had picked up from when Helen was chastising Gordon.
“Okay...Sorry...” Karl said, scalded. “What about your teddy?”
“Oh yah, I have him.” She smiled.
The door to the front room opened and Helen walked in.
“Oh come on Mary! You’re barely even dressed yet!” She glared at Karl. Grumpy parents do a lot of glaring at people, don’t they? “Right, come on missy, get your socks and shoes on or we’ll never get to Uncle Tony’s!” She added with a military-drill like tone. Mary stood to attention and saluted her, a mannerism she had picked up from Gordon, from when Helen was instructing him. She was a very receptive and bright young girl, and it was impossible to tell whether her actions were merely mimicking her parents, or genuinely mocking them. She pulled socks and shoes onto her feet.
“Right! We ready to go!?” Shouted Gordon from the passage, to the percussion of the faint jangling of car keys.
*********************************************************************************
The whole party began to leave the house and walk to the garage with a Reservoir Dogs style coolness. Gordon, Helen and Karl, in their snappy suits, It could have looked cool, had Karl not tripped slightly, and Gordon had to turn around and tell Mary to hurry up. It gained more epicness, however, when Mary caught up with the party, squeezed in between Gordon and Helen, pulled a pair of Uncle Tony’s aviator sunglasses, and put them on, strutting along with her parents.
As if in slow motion, this supercool party raised the garage door, revealing an automobile hidden beneath a sheet. Karl gave a cool, knowing nod to Gordon, expecting the immaculate Ford Capri shape to be revealed, but as the garage door opened further, he noticed the vehicle was taller than before. His cool nod turned into a confused glance at Gordon and Helen. The Garage door raised further still, all the way, revealing a clunky box covered in a sheet, like some graceless table. Gordon pulled the sheet off the vehicle and revealed a rather bland looking people carrier. Karl shook his head.
“Please tell me that runs on an antimatter engine, or...I don’t know, a narrator snark engine...Hell, tell me it runs on human shit, I’ll be happy!” Said Karl, shocked.
“LANGUAGE!” Shouted Helen, slapping Karl on the arm.
“What’s ‘shit’?” Said Mary with curiosity.
“The writer...” replied Helen.
Your sex life, replied the writer.
“Your sex life!” replied Gordon, telling me. “It’s a diesel.” He added to Karl.
“A diesel!? A DIESEL!? Christ Gordon, the Taskforce have all sorts of cool and awesome technologies, all sorts of epic vehicles. We’ve got nuclear motorbikes, all purpose cars that can fly, swim and are powered by burning old ‘Friends’ cassette tapes – thus actually having something worthwhile coming from that bland excuse for a sitcom – and you’ve gone out and bought yourself a diesel people carrier...It’s got seven seats Gordon! You’ve got one child! WHAT DO YOU NEED SEVEN SEATS FOR!? This vehicle is almost just a bland expression of your own pointlessness and mediocrity! This is the kind of vehicle that says “I have served my main purpose of procreation and I now accept the banality of my own meaningless existence and am willing to die a soulless death!” Jeez...Gordon, what happened!?”
Karl sighed and climbed into one of the many passenger seats. “OWWWW!” he screamed, pulling a small plastic doll from under his buttocks. Mary laughed, Helen and Gordon joined in, while Karl sulked in the unexciting car.
With Mary strapped into her car seat, Helen and Gordon climbed into the front. Karl glared jealously at Mary, a look that told of how he did not like that this girl had turned his friends into boring, boring people. She merely poked her tongue out at him and looked out the window.
“SHI...” Gordon went to shout, before being met by the censoring gaze of Helen, and he merely turned the ignition key, and pulled out.
*********************************************************************************
Tony was out in his yard playing with his children. Setting up the orphanage had taken years off Tony, and he paraded around outside with a youthful exuberance that had seemed to wash away all his prior coolness and badassery and replaced it with something altogether better and more wholesome in so many ways. He did not need the thrill of action anymore, or so he told himself. What greater thrill was there than helping raise a new generation, especially those who through sorry circumstance, had been denied so much. He could never replace it, but he did his best, and gave each child his love and respect – no matter their age, background, or circumstance.
He currently had two young lads with him who had never met Gordon, Helen and Karl. They had only recently arrived, and one thing that gave Tony more pleasure than anything else was seeing how underwhelmed they were when truth did not meet their overimaginative expectations. He had told them all the stories he had from his time at the Taskforce, and spoke especially of Gordon, Helen and Karl, and their exploits. He knew that they were excited to meet these people who, in their own imaginations, had been painted as awesome superhumans. He also knew they would be underwhelmed, and would make this known.
Gordon pulled up in the drive, and got out of his car. Tony rounded up the boys, the others all knew the crew and for them it was like an old friend coming to visit, but Tony wanted to introduce these delightful young lads to his friends. As the car door opened, their eyes lit up, and then Gordon stepped out. Tony walked up to him to embrace him, and likewise Helen, who followed up shortly after. Karl too stepped out, and Tony shook his hand and gave him an embrace. The boys, meanwhile, gazed on confused and approached when Tony motioned for them to come and meet them.
“You don’t look so cool...You just look like a chubby dad!” said one of the boys to Gordon. Tony laughed a genuine and hearty laugh and scruffed the boys hair, having waited for this moment since he had heard of the arrival of Gordon and the party.
“And where is my wonderful niece!” He said with a sentimentality previously unknown in the ice-cold Tony. Helen went to unbuckle Mary only to find she was already opening the car door and almost running towards Tony before she had stepped out from the vehicle. She ran into his arms, and he picked her up and gave her a warm hug, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Hello Uncle Tony!” She said happily. “How are you!?” she added, politely, almost mimicking grown up conversation.
“I am fine my dear, and all the better for seeing you! And how are you?” He asked.
“I’m okay – but Uncle Karl is picking on me!” She looked at Karl, pouting, and trying to stir up conflict with Tony. Tony merely laughed.
“Right – Are you alright to look after Mary for a few days? Seems we’ve got some trouble.” Gordon said, getting back to business.
“No problem.” Tony answered. “If I know her energy levels, she’ll fit right in here!”
“Also...” said Gordon with an enthusiasm of a child on Christmas eve, desperate to open a present. Tony picked up exactly what he meant, and motioned to the garage.
“Park yours up,” he said, “And the baby is in the garage.”
*********************************************************************************
Gordon ran his hands over her smooth curves, and pulled her clothes right off. Licking his lips and salivating with delicious anticipation. He could not wait to get inside her. Helen merely looked at him as if to say “I wish you were feeling me up, and not an old Ford Capri!” They all got in the car, and felt the familiar textures of the smooth seats, Gordon ran his hands over the steering wheel, pressed his feet to the pedals, and with a nostalgic glint in his eye, started the nuclear reaction engine.
“Can I say it this time?” He asked pleadingly of Helen.
“We all will!” Replied Helen. “3...2...1...”
“SHITTY SHITTY BANG BANG!” cried Gordon, Helen and Karl in unison as they burst out of the garage in a trail of dust, and waved at Tony, the boys and Mary as they pulled out and began speeding down the road.
*********************************************************************************
When they arrived at HQ there seemed to be a lot of confused hustle and bustle. People seemed ill directed, and on edge. Upon seeing Gordon and Helen, however, the staff greeted them with relief and glee, evidently feeling like now they may get some competent instructions that the bumbling Karl was incapable of providing. He had been made acting head of the organisation only under the proviso that if anything major happened, he had to get Gordon and Helen in immediately. The two fell back into their roles perfectly. Gordon and Helen were joint heads of the organisation. Equal partners, and they each knew their place.
“Right!” Shouted Gordon to everyone in earshot. “Briefing in five minutes, briefing room. I need everyone there, I need all the research there, all the facts there, and most of all, all of you there. Five minutes.”
“Go get the scientists together, we need to know exactly what we’re working with, Karl – Okay?” added Helen, authoritatively.
The staff suddenly all started pulling in the same direction. The sight, sound and instruction of Gordon was a comfort to them. He always included them, he never took advantage of his implied authority – something he did not believe in anyway – but he always knew what to do, and even when he didn’t, he would always think of something. Gordon and Helen looked at each other, smiling, as they strutted to the briefing room. They had a feeling they were back where they belonged.
*********************************************************************************
“Recently, there had been a number of unusual phenomenon sighted not just here in the UK, but worldwide.” Said the man in the white lab-coat, “It started when there was a leak from an isolated mansion in the hills...No wait, that’s Resident Evil isn’t it. Erm...It started when radiation leaked from a probe returning to...No, that’s Night of the Living Dead...Mysterious incurable virus?” He asked, confused.
“Nope...That’s 28 Days Later...” came a voice from the back of the room.
“Well, Christ, I don’t know...Look, it’s zombies, okay! Damn zombies! Cheesy, bullshit, generic, overdone zombies and they’ve been going around consuming human...”
“Brains?” someone filled in.
“No, souls! They consume human souls!”
Gordon and Helen looked at each other confused, and then gazed up and addressed the writer.
“Are we really going here, mate?” asked Gordon. “Are we really going to join in the whole zombie fad at least a few years too late?”
“HE ALREADY DID!” Screamed the frustrated voice of Helen from the other side. What can we say, they had a young child, and Gordon and Helen did not get much ‘personal time’ anymore.
“OI!” Shouted Gordon aggressively, possibly frustrated at his own sexual performance. “OI! Mr. Omniscient, omnipotent narrator! We’ve had it out once before and we’ll do so again, okay! Leave my personal business out of your stupid stories, please!” The narrator agreed that this sexual pun was cheap...But true...
“Well if it’s bloody true can you please write in a massive, lengthy lovemaking session later on!” Gordon huffed. “What do you want Karl!?”
Karl would have answered, only to do so would have involved him letting out that laughs at Gordon’s sexual performance. Something which he was stifling on account of respect for his friend. The silence irked Gordon, and so he stomped to the door and opened it dressed in only a dressing gown and a t-shirt that read “Don’t Panic!” Somehow, stood there, a somewhat perturbed look on his face, was even more funny to Karl and he could not help but laugh!
“Karl, if you’re going to interrupt my time alone with Helen I’d like it to be for more than for me to see you laugh. I’ve seen you laugh many times and while it can be infectious, on this occasion, it is not. What do you want!?” He said sternly but calmly, in the same way he addresses his daughter, Mary, when she has done something naughty.
“Sorry...” Karl uttered though his mirth. “It’s a new threat. Bigger than the owls and bees, bigger than the earwigs and meerkats. ABSOLUTELY HUGE GORDON!” Karl’s face turned from mirthful to serious as he spoke, and Gordon knew he was genuine.
“Helen, “ he said, “Suit up. We’ve got a new job to do!”
*********************************************************************************
It had been five years since the incident with the owls and bees. The Global Taskforce (as they were now known since dropping the bee from their title) had also dealt with the earwigs and meerkats. It had been about four years since then, and there had been no threat in that time. Gordon and Helen had been busy raising Mary, their little girl, and were happy with their new life as parents out in their self-sufficient home in the forest. I say happy, they were as happy as you could be cleaning up another creature’s shit, piss and vomit, then dealing with it becoming rather self-aware, egotistical, loud, pouty and full of tantrums.
Karl had been made acting head of the Global Taskforce in Gordon’s extended paternity leave, and while he and Helen often went to the HQ to deal with the odd bit of business and keep up to date with what was going on, they were rather detached from it all – and to be fair, they did not mind it that way. Karl often came to visit, so did Tony, they all stayed close and were their own little family. Everything was pleasant when there was no threat to fight. In some ways, they feared that a new threat had come along, but in more ways they were happy. Their lives had become too pedestrian. Too normal. And who the hell wants normality!?
Also in the meantime, the omniscient, omnipresent narrator just kind of...sat twiddling his thumbs really. I mean, what use is a narrator when there is no story to narrate. He actually had to sit and watch all this bloody mediocrity! I mean, there was some fun in it at time. That time Karl had ended up intellectually bested by Mary when she was three was pretty funny. Some of the kids Tony was raising at his orphanage also gave Karl a run for his money. I mean essentially all the good bits consist of Karl being a bit silly. But still, it was a bit boring and so I, too was glad of a bit of action at last!
*********************************************************************************
Helen and Gordon looked at each other as they pulled on their old sharp suits, the uniform of the Global Taskforce. Gordon breathed in heavily and buttoned up his trousers, a small paunch protruding over them. Helen giggled a little at him, that was until she went to zip up her tight skirt and found she suffered the same difficult at Gordon had! Gordon did not giggle, because he gazed at Helen in that old getup and remembered those days when they first got together. That time he had first seen her in that sleek, slightly objectifying uniform, and remembered how beautiful she looked then. Since, she had gained a little in the arse department, but he still looked at her as he had that day and thought she was damn ravishing.
“What...?” She asked coyly.
“Nothing...just...Remember when we first saw each other in these uniforms?”
“Hasn’t the narrator already done this bit of sentimentality? I mean, Gordon, you know how he gets! He’ll only call you out on it and insult you!”
She was right, I was just about to say “...said Gordon, completely ignoring the fact I’ve just fucking told everyone about this...” but, Helen chipped in with something quite sensible.
“I really have not missed having him around...” said Gordon ruefully.
I heard that, I replied. He merely glared. He liked to glare these days. He was becoming a bit of a dick in his prematurely-ejaculating old age, and really was in desperate need of a bit of excitement and a good fucking. Two things he would not get if he kept glaring at the omnipotent narrator like he hates him. Gordon stopped glaring.
“Anyway my dear,” continued Helen, “You too look as wonderful as you did back then. And I love you just as much if not more.”
“I love you also, Helen.” Replied Gordon, the sentimentality and nostalgia evident in the air like some kind of pathetic, soft snow.
Downstairs, Karl had been tasked with getting Mary ready to go to Uncle Tony’s.
“Right, where’s your backpack?” Said Karl, masking his puerility with his best grown-up voice.
“Here!” replied Mary with the joyfully energy of infancy.
“And do you have your blankey?” Karl asked.
“Blankey!? I’m four and a half, not two!” Mary answered condescendingly, and putting her hands on her hips. A mannerism she had picked up from when Helen was chastising Gordon.
“Okay...Sorry...” Karl said, scalded. “What about your teddy?”
“Oh yah, I have him.” She smiled.
The door to the front room opened and Helen walked in.
“Oh come on Mary! You’re barely even dressed yet!” She glared at Karl. Grumpy parents do a lot of glaring at people, don’t they? “Right, come on missy, get your socks and shoes on or we’ll never get to Uncle Tony’s!” She added with a military-drill like tone. Mary stood to attention and saluted her, a mannerism she had picked up from Gordon, from when Helen was instructing him. She was a very receptive and bright young girl, and it was impossible to tell whether her actions were merely mimicking her parents, or genuinely mocking them. She pulled socks and shoes onto her feet.
“Right! We ready to go!?” Shouted Gordon from the passage, to the percussion of the faint jangling of car keys.
*********************************************************************************
The whole party began to leave the house and walk to the garage with a Reservoir Dogs style coolness. Gordon, Helen and Karl, in their snappy suits, It could have looked cool, had Karl not tripped slightly, and Gordon had to turn around and tell Mary to hurry up. It gained more epicness, however, when Mary caught up with the party, squeezed in between Gordon and Helen, pulled a pair of Uncle Tony’s aviator sunglasses, and put them on, strutting along with her parents.
As if in slow motion, this supercool party raised the garage door, revealing an automobile hidden beneath a sheet. Karl gave a cool, knowing nod to Gordon, expecting the immaculate Ford Capri shape to be revealed, but as the garage door opened further, he noticed the vehicle was taller than before. His cool nod turned into a confused glance at Gordon and Helen. The Garage door raised further still, all the way, revealing a clunky box covered in a sheet, like some graceless table. Gordon pulled the sheet off the vehicle and revealed a rather bland looking people carrier. Karl shook his head.
“Please tell me that runs on an antimatter engine, or...I don’t know, a narrator snark engine...Hell, tell me it runs on human shit, I’ll be happy!” Said Karl, shocked.
“LANGUAGE!” Shouted Helen, slapping Karl on the arm.
“What’s ‘shit’?” Said Mary with curiosity.
“The writer...” replied Helen.
Your sex life, replied the writer.
“Your sex life!” replied Gordon, telling me. “It’s a diesel.” He added to Karl.
“A diesel!? A DIESEL!? Christ Gordon, the Taskforce have all sorts of cool and awesome technologies, all sorts of epic vehicles. We’ve got nuclear motorbikes, all purpose cars that can fly, swim and are powered by burning old ‘Friends’ cassette tapes – thus actually having something worthwhile coming from that bland excuse for a sitcom – and you’ve gone out and bought yourself a diesel people carrier...It’s got seven seats Gordon! You’ve got one child! WHAT DO YOU NEED SEVEN SEATS FOR!? This vehicle is almost just a bland expression of your own pointlessness and mediocrity! This is the kind of vehicle that says “I have served my main purpose of procreation and I now accept the banality of my own meaningless existence and am willing to die a soulless death!” Jeez...Gordon, what happened!?”
Karl sighed and climbed into one of the many passenger seats. “OWWWW!” he screamed, pulling a small plastic doll from under his buttocks. Mary laughed, Helen and Gordon joined in, while Karl sulked in the unexciting car.
With Mary strapped into her car seat, Helen and Gordon climbed into the front. Karl glared jealously at Mary, a look that told of how he did not like that this girl had turned his friends into boring, boring people. She merely poked her tongue out at him and looked out the window.
“SHI...” Gordon went to shout, before being met by the censoring gaze of Helen, and he merely turned the ignition key, and pulled out.
*********************************************************************************
Tony was out in his yard playing with his children. Setting up the orphanage had taken years off Tony, and he paraded around outside with a youthful exuberance that had seemed to wash away all his prior coolness and badassery and replaced it with something altogether better and more wholesome in so many ways. He did not need the thrill of action anymore, or so he told himself. What greater thrill was there than helping raise a new generation, especially those who through sorry circumstance, had been denied so much. He could never replace it, but he did his best, and gave each child his love and respect – no matter their age, background, or circumstance.
He currently had two young lads with him who had never met Gordon, Helen and Karl. They had only recently arrived, and one thing that gave Tony more pleasure than anything else was seeing how underwhelmed they were when truth did not meet their overimaginative expectations. He had told them all the stories he had from his time at the Taskforce, and spoke especially of Gordon, Helen and Karl, and their exploits. He knew that they were excited to meet these people who, in their own imaginations, had been painted as awesome superhumans. He also knew they would be underwhelmed, and would make this known.
Gordon pulled up in the drive, and got out of his car. Tony rounded up the boys, the others all knew the crew and for them it was like an old friend coming to visit, but Tony wanted to introduce these delightful young lads to his friends. As the car door opened, their eyes lit up, and then Gordon stepped out. Tony walked up to him to embrace him, and likewise Helen, who followed up shortly after. Karl too stepped out, and Tony shook his hand and gave him an embrace. The boys, meanwhile, gazed on confused and approached when Tony motioned for them to come and meet them.
“You don’t look so cool...You just look like a chubby dad!” said one of the boys to Gordon. Tony laughed a genuine and hearty laugh and scruffed the boys hair, having waited for this moment since he had heard of the arrival of Gordon and the party.
“And where is my wonderful niece!” He said with a sentimentality previously unknown in the ice-cold Tony. Helen went to unbuckle Mary only to find she was already opening the car door and almost running towards Tony before she had stepped out from the vehicle. She ran into his arms, and he picked her up and gave her a warm hug, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Hello Uncle Tony!” She said happily. “How are you!?” she added, politely, almost mimicking grown up conversation.
“I am fine my dear, and all the better for seeing you! And how are you?” He asked.
“I’m okay – but Uncle Karl is picking on me!” She looked at Karl, pouting, and trying to stir up conflict with Tony. Tony merely laughed.
“Right – Are you alright to look after Mary for a few days? Seems we’ve got some trouble.” Gordon said, getting back to business.
“No problem.” Tony answered. “If I know her energy levels, she’ll fit right in here!”
“Also...” said Gordon with an enthusiasm of a child on Christmas eve, desperate to open a present. Tony picked up exactly what he meant, and motioned to the garage.
“Park yours up,” he said, “And the baby is in the garage.”
*********************************************************************************
Gordon ran his hands over her smooth curves, and pulled her clothes right off. Licking his lips and salivating with delicious anticipation. He could not wait to get inside her. Helen merely looked at him as if to say “I wish you were feeling me up, and not an old Ford Capri!” They all got in the car, and felt the familiar textures of the smooth seats, Gordon ran his hands over the steering wheel, pressed his feet to the pedals, and with a nostalgic glint in his eye, started the nuclear reaction engine.
“Can I say it this time?” He asked pleadingly of Helen.
“We all will!” Replied Helen. “3...2...1...”
“SHITTY SHITTY BANG BANG!” cried Gordon, Helen and Karl in unison as they burst out of the garage in a trail of dust, and waved at Tony, the boys and Mary as they pulled out and began speeding down the road.
*********************************************************************************
When they arrived at HQ there seemed to be a lot of confused hustle and bustle. People seemed ill directed, and on edge. Upon seeing Gordon and Helen, however, the staff greeted them with relief and glee, evidently feeling like now they may get some competent instructions that the bumbling Karl was incapable of providing. He had been made acting head of the organisation only under the proviso that if anything major happened, he had to get Gordon and Helen in immediately. The two fell back into their roles perfectly. Gordon and Helen were joint heads of the organisation. Equal partners, and they each knew their place.
“Right!” Shouted Gordon to everyone in earshot. “Briefing in five minutes, briefing room. I need everyone there, I need all the research there, all the facts there, and most of all, all of you there. Five minutes.”
“Go get the scientists together, we need to know exactly what we’re working with, Karl – Okay?” added Helen, authoritatively.
The staff suddenly all started pulling in the same direction. The sight, sound and instruction of Gordon was a comfort to them. He always included them, he never took advantage of his implied authority – something he did not believe in anyway – but he always knew what to do, and even when he didn’t, he would always think of something. Gordon and Helen looked at each other, smiling, as they strutted to the briefing room. They had a feeling they were back where they belonged.
*********************************************************************************
“Recently, there had been a number of unusual phenomenon sighted not just here in the UK, but worldwide.” Said the man in the white lab-coat, “It started when there was a leak from an isolated mansion in the hills...No wait, that’s Resident Evil isn’t it. Erm...It started when radiation leaked from a probe returning to...No, that’s Night of the Living Dead...Mysterious incurable virus?” He asked, confused.
“Nope...That’s 28 Days Later...” came a voice from the back of the room.
“Well, Christ, I don’t know...Look, it’s zombies, okay! Damn zombies! Cheesy, bullshit, generic, overdone zombies and they’ve been going around consuming human...”
“Brains?” someone filled in.
“No, souls! They consume human souls!”
Gordon and Helen looked at each other confused, and then gazed up and addressed the writer.
“Are we really going here, mate?” asked Gordon. “Are we really going to join in the whole zombie fad at least a few years too late?”
Yeah, seems that way, I replied.
“But...You can’t even think of a legitimate, unused premise for these zombies existing! You’re just bandwagon jumping you idiot!”
Gordon! Watch it! I’m a serious writer me. I’ve got an imagination and everything! Do you remember how intolerable I was in the last book to you! Well I can do the same again if you like!?*
“Now, now!” said Helen. “Look, Gordon – be honest. We’ve been stagnating in our home life...as well as our sex life! We need action and excitement! As much as love Mary, she is at an age now where she is old enough to be doing her own thing. She’ll be going to school next year and then what do we plan to do? Sit around twiddling our thumbs having crap sex until we hate each other, divorce? NO! We’ll take on these damn shitty generic zombies, we’ll fight that menace and we’ll bloody well win again because we ARE the Global Taskforce!”
The writer appreciated this defence. For one thing, it gave him the premise for a new narrative involving the taskforce. For another thing, it gave him a little bit of time to think of an absurd, yet socially satirical premise for the zombie outbreak.
“WAIT!” said the scientist who previously did not know why there were zombies, just that there were, because the writer hadn’t thought of it yet. “THE WRITER JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING! It seems that large plasma screen televisions emit microwave radiation at viewers brains. But only when they’re watching stupid shit. The outbreak first started when millions of people in the UK were watching a bland, banal, pub-singer warbling contest, viewer voted, bullshit, money spinning reality TV show. This destroys the part of the brain that stops people going rabid crazy and eating each other.”
Yes, this is actual science! Honest!
The scientist continued. “As a result of this, and bitter that their own souls and lives had been consumed watching shite on the idiot box and never actually living – they consume the flesh and souls of others! It seems to somehow be contagious also – possibly spread by medium of infected blood cells or some shit...”
I must just step in as the writer to say, honestly, who needs a credible plot – IT’S FUCKING ZOMBIES! You just want people running away screaming, rotten fleshed bastards getting heads blown off with shotguns, possibly some romance and a few clichés! LET’S DO THIS!
“I agree!” said Gordon, looking at Helen excitedly, she placed her hand on his in solidarity, and Karl joined them! They simultaneously thrust them into the air and shouted “FUCK ZOMBIES WITH SHOVELS!”
“But...You can’t even think of a legitimate, unused premise for these zombies existing! You’re just bandwagon jumping you idiot!”
Gordon! Watch it! I’m a serious writer me. I’ve got an imagination and everything! Do you remember how intolerable I was in the last book to you! Well I can do the same again if you like!?*
“Now, now!” said Helen. “Look, Gordon – be honest. We’ve been stagnating in our home life...as well as our sex life! We need action and excitement! As much as love Mary, she is at an age now where she is old enough to be doing her own thing. She’ll be going to school next year and then what do we plan to do? Sit around twiddling our thumbs having crap sex until we hate each other, divorce? NO! We’ll take on these damn shitty generic zombies, we’ll fight that menace and we’ll bloody well win again because we ARE the Global Taskforce!”
The writer appreciated this defence. For one thing, it gave him the premise for a new narrative involving the taskforce. For another thing, it gave him a little bit of time to think of an absurd, yet socially satirical premise for the zombie outbreak.
“WAIT!” said the scientist who previously did not know why there were zombies, just that there were, because the writer hadn’t thought of it yet. “THE WRITER JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING! It seems that large plasma screen televisions emit microwave radiation at viewers brains. But only when they’re watching stupid shit. The outbreak first started when millions of people in the UK were watching a bland, banal, pub-singer warbling contest, viewer voted, bullshit, money spinning reality TV show. This destroys the part of the brain that stops people going rabid crazy and eating each other.”
Yes, this is actual science! Honest!
The scientist continued. “As a result of this, and bitter that their own souls and lives had been consumed watching shite on the idiot box and never actually living – they consume the flesh and souls of others! It seems to somehow be contagious also – possibly spread by medium of infected blood cells or some shit...”
I must just step in as the writer to say, honestly, who needs a credible plot – IT’S FUCKING ZOMBIES! You just want people running away screaming, rotten fleshed bastards getting heads blown off with shotguns, possibly some romance and a few clichés! LET’S DO THIS!
“I agree!” said Gordon, looking at Helen excitedly, she placed her hand on his in solidarity, and Karl joined them! They simultaneously thrust them into the air and shouted “FUCK ZOMBIES WITH SHOVELS!”
Gordon, Helen, Karl, Tony, Mary and the Global Taskforce shall return soon – in a zombie busting tale of possibly less than epic proportions and told by the snarkiest, most interfering and God-complexed narrator in the history of literature!
Warning: This story contains scenes of explicit violence and gore – and possibly
one too many references to Resident Evil.
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