So there's this dude, right? This scraggly-haired young man, and he's
lying there... I think he's drooling on himself a little. He keeps
pulling his sheets over him cause he doesn't want to get up, but he doesn't
want to sleep all day.
Suddenly the door busts open.
"What the hell is this all about, jackass?"
The guy in bed started to get up. "Wha...? I don't wanna get up..."
The in-barger snatched the guy by the back of his shirt and yanked him upwards. "No. No. You're not going back to sleep. It's two o'clock! Get up!!"
"Who ARE you?!" The guy stared at his awaker in horror.
"I am YOUR CREATION!!" he roared. "I am Neil Belmont!!"
"The hell if you're a Belmont!" Terence yelled from a VERY faraway distance of both time and space.
"I am Neil! Neil M.! And you didn't finish my story!! So you know what you're gonna do, jerkweed? You're gonna get your mangy ass outta this bad, eh, maybe WASH yourself off -- got a hose or anything? -- and you're gonna sit at your goddamn computer and do another chapter or I'm gonna get medieval on your ass!!!"
"Uhhnn..." the author groaned, dragging himself out of bed. Neil shoved him along and led him to the computer.
"Now I don't know how these things work, being from hundreds of years ago and all, but you better sit down and make it do all that razzmatazz that it does when you do that make it does that do it stuff that it... er... JUST WRITE!!"
"I'm tired..." the author mumbled, opening up WordPad.
"What the fuggin hell is that all about anyway? You slept for like 12 hours! I asked your parents about it before I killed them and broke in!!"
The author jerked back fearfully, throwing up his arms. "You killed my parents?!"
Neil's face straightened. "No. ...No. I, uh, I told them about some pressing matters they needed to attend to, involving my sword and their bare, fleshy backs and a long-term trip to a landfill, loooong-term, if you know what I mean, and I told them about the cutting I had to do, and the stabbing, and the slow, sloooow grinding and rustling of bones and -- What are you staring at?!"
"Who's your friend?" the author's mother asked, walking up.
"Mom? You're alive?"
"Of course I am. Do you guys need something to drink?"
"Sure... some Pepsi?"
"Okay then, be right back."
"Woah," Neil said to himself. "Who DID I kill?"
"...You freak me out."
"YOU created me. It's your fault."
"Here you are, two Pepsis."
"Thank you, Mrs. *******... what, what're you afraid of? Don't want people hearing your name?"
"Well... yeah, kind of."
"What's wrong with the name ******** ********? Better than muthafuggin' Neil M. Belmont!!!"
"Well, the kids at school used to call me ****."
"****?! HA!! That's a riot!! Haha, how ya doin, ****?"
"I'm kinda tired, actual-"
"Man, don't you know? 'How ya doin' is a formality. In other words, no one actually gives a damn."
"...Oh. That would explain the kids at school looking at me funny when I told them about my miserable life."
"HA! Life sucks fer you, eh ****?" Neil then takes a swig of Pepsi. "Geez, what's in this stuff, ****?"
"Please stop calling me that!!" **** yells. Oops. Make that ******** yells. Better yet, er, *ahem*, "Better yet, Neil, how about you just call me author?"
"Ok, auth. I can do that."
"Alright. How's the Pepsi?"
"It's strong!!! Sweet!! Soooo sweet.... hmm. I like this stuff, except I can feel my teeth dying as we speak."
"Wait'll you get your first caffeine rush."
"Caffeine? Omigod, what's caffeine? Don't tell me it's some sort of mystical magical substance that draws out your soul and enslaves you to the great overlord monsters who force you to dance and sing with raccoons in the glistening moonlight until you can feel the beat, beat, beat of your heart! OH GOD THE BEAT BEAT BEAT!!! And then you look around and everyone else seems fine so you stop and say, 'ok, I guess I should be fine too!' Then you're fine for awhile but then you hear this noise, it's so horrible, it's ringing, and pulsing, and beating and BEAT BEAT BEAT and then you just run around screaming then you fall over and you can't bear it and you roll around in the dirt, moaning and weeping until finally, finally, it's over and you're dead and then they just go and use their magic slave juice on someone else and turn them into a zombie puppet?!"
"...Welcome to the 20th century."
"Now I see why you're so lazy. I'm gonna be pooped when this wears off." He busily taps his fingers on the can. Loudly. The author bites his lip in annoyance.
"Ok, Auth, now get to work on the fic."
"Alright." the Author starts typing.
"Hmmmmmmm.... I think I'm going back now," Neil says, walking off. "So, like, I better not stand there in a daze for 7 months this time, Auth. You, y'know, better write stuff that I do, so I, like, do it. I'm not getting any younger."
"I know, I know. ...Thanks, Neil. Sometimes I need a good boot in the ass."
Neil smiled. "Hey, it's not like you have anything better to do. Your friends never do anything, you work TWO DAYS a week, you're GRADUATED now, and it's not like you got anything better do write, either -- I mean, that Sailor Moon fic? What's up with that?"
Auth's eyebrow twitched. "Hey now! I've had that fic in mind for years, way back to my RPing days. And I'm GONNA finish it."
Neil's eye glittered innocently. "Even if no one reads it?"
Auth chucks a shoe at Neil. Neil gets hit and makes that old Simon Belmont grunting "Auh!" noise. "EVEN IF NO ONE READS IT," he repeated spitefully.
"Well, ok then. You darn well better get to work, man. I guess I'll just... go back to my hometown and wait for the next chapter."
Auth sighs. "Kay. Seeya... (God, what have I created...)."
Neil stops by the front door and plays with a light switch. "Dude, I'm digging this whole electricity thing. They didn't have it in my time, did they?"
"NO, Neil, they didn't. Not that you would have noticed."
Neil continues to stand there playing with it. For several minutes. As Auth writes. His teeth grind as he hears the silver-haired idiot giggling.
"OKAY!!! LEAVE!!!" He grabs Neil and shoves him out the door.
Suddenly, Neil was back in the old Castlevania time/space thingy.
"Okay, now it's time to get back to my quest! (see chapters 1,2,3 to see what I'm doing. or don't, cause I don't care anyway.)"
Neil walked out of the town down a dull path. It was early morning... the sun was not yet over the trees, yet brightness was settling in already. A hand reached up suddenly from the ground and clutched Neil's leg. He tried to walk, but couldn't. Upon closer inspection, he saw a hand reaching up from the ground, clutched onto his leg.
"Huh..." he said, standing there. Suddenly a ghastly zombie rose up from the ground and floated towards him.
"Crap!" Neil said, quickly drawing his trusted, generic blade, the Excalipur. He readied it to swing, dramatically, but the zombie took a good five seconds in drifting to him.
"Come on, if they're flying, they should be faster than this," Neil complained towards the sky.
Suddenly, the zombie was going ridiculously fast and smacked right into him. "AUHH!!" yelled Neil. "Taste Second-rate Steel!" he barked, swinging the blade into the zombie ghost thing and cutting it in two. Another one came flying in at him, as fast as a horse in full speed.
"Holy CRAP!!" Neil said, thrusting the sword hopefully forward and closing his eyes, awaiting a terrible impact. Fortunately, the zombie moronically flew into the sword and died. Well... was destroyed. It was already dead.
Neil looked desperately up at the clouds. "Ok, whatever higher power that heard me and mysteriously made the zombies insanely fast just to spite me... I see my error. And I'm..." he kicked the dirt. "I'm sorry." He nodded admittingly. "Okay, now please change it back."
Suddenly!!! The zombies were going really slow, and he had no immediate concern of them crashing into him. ...so it wasn't so sudden. Well, the change was sudden, but there was nothing else sudden about the zombies. Author made a brainstorm. Suddenly Zombies. An idea for a sitcom. Author decides to stop making comments in the story, realizing that it was a one- time gag at best and he'd probably better not ever include himself in the story again.
...Author burns Suddenly Zombies idea. Author smacks self.
"O...key...doo... key..." Neil says, slowly putting his sword away. "I reckon I'll just start walking away... right... about... huh?! My foot is mysteriously stuck in place!! And my self-narration begins as I trip and fall to the ground! THUD is the noise I just made!! And now Ouch, OUCH it hurts!! But what could be holding my foot in place? It's as if it's being grabbed... or even clutched!! But WHAT sort of sinister impliment, utility, limb, extremity, or compliation of functional, prehensile digits could POSSIBLY grip my leg in place like this?!"
He gazed back at his foot. There was the hand. Oh yeah, he remembered that. With the grabbing, and the holding in place, and the not being able to escape from the zombie that was about to hit him insanely fast until he requested the above whatever to slow it down again and it strangely complied. Now he remembered. He felt melancholic, making these recollections about his past. He wished there was some sort of chronicle of the events he had been through. Then he noticed a Chapter button, and several other chapters. As he scrolled the mouse through the short-but- stout list, he was filled with warm and pleasant memories. A tear came to his eye.
"Hmm..." said Neil. "Omigosh... the Zombies that were coming towards me slowly yet dangerously to my limited health!!!" He looked up to see that the zombie had cleared a full TWO FEET of distance during what seemed like only a second of long and drawn out pointless attempts at the oh-so-brain- hurting thought process he seemed naturally inclined to force himself into despite COMPLETE inadequacy. "OH MY GOD, TWO FEET IN THAT SHORT..." he glanced at his watch. "only FIFTEEN seconds?! WTH?!"
With little time to act, Neil realized his game plan. He had to take out the hand at his foot, so he could stand up and take out the zombies approaching. Before they touched him. Causing damage. Icky awful DAMAGE. He almost said "Auh" just at the thought. But no. He couldn't stop and waste time thinking about things like that. Nor could he stop and think about the fact that he shouldn't stop and think about anything right now. But he was too busy to carry that thought further, no, there was no time. He'd think about it later. If there WAS a later. But there was no time for pessimistic predictions like that. Nor was there time to remind himself that there was no time for pessimistic predictions. Nor was there time for anything!! There was NO time!! Time was like, almost up!! He totally had to just stop thinking about things!! Which was usually so easy!!
"Quck, man, quick!! For God's sake, quick!! What hurts hand?!"
"Hm... hand. Hand is fleshy. Flesh is generally carved by... hmm... what did I carve that old couple in the landfill up with? Ooh, I know, SHARP stuff! Heheh, that was kick-ass. Too bad it wasn't his parents. Then he'd have no excuse. I mean, he'd be at home, like, 'damn, my parents are dead. guess I better write stupid fanfiction like a nerd!' Ha ha. Stupid nerd. Stupid ****. Kick HIS ass anyday."
Neil noticed something... the zombies were closing in!! Still!! But closer than the last time he noticed them closing in, which, given his general understanding of the functions of time, space, and physics, made perfect sense. He had to do something. But what? He couldn't move!
"Oh! That's right!! There's some five-fingered bodily instrument holding me down!! What was it that hurt those... SHARP STUFF!! That's it!! My sword is sharp!!" He pulled out his sword. "I bet if I hit that thing with the sword, it can make it die and stop grabbing me and whatnot!!"
He swung the Excalipur at the hand. It hit. "Sometimes flesh doesn't want to be carved up like grandma's pumpkins... sometimes flesh is hard like grandma's calves!! Sometimes you gotta cut MORE!!" He swung the sword again. It hit. He kept swinging. The hand wasn't dying.
"This sword is WEAK!!!" he complained. "I don't get it. It killed the zombies in one hit!!"
"Everything kills us in one hit," one of the zombies said.
"You can talk?" Neil asked.
"No," the zombie replied.
"Seriously?"
"No, we can't."
"Then what the-"
The zombie screamed. "Drink more caffeine!!"
"NOOO!!! Now i have another reason to escape the hand and kill the zombie before it gets me hooked on the sweet sweet taste of Pepsi."
"Actually, Pepsi's more of an American market thing."
"Ameri-who?"
"We're more of a Coke crowd."
"Oh, that's cool."
"...You don't know what Coke is."
"Sure, my grandpa likes that stuff."
"COCA COLA!!!"
"...Oh. Never heard of it."
"Then DIE!!! When we TOUCH you!!!"
"Great..." Neil groaned. Suddenly he lit up. "I've got it! The sword! And the meaty hand of the thing from the underground!!" He took his sword and stabbed the hand repeatedly. It didn't stop grabbing him.
"Oh no!! For some reason it's not working!!!"
He considered his options.
1) hit hand with swor--- wait. no.
1) hit sword with hand!! might have to give that a try.
2) hit zombie with sword. a little far-fetched....
3) hit zombie with hand. no, hand won't move.
4) hit hand with zombie. now we're talkin!!!
...
Neil waited for the Zombie to approach. The afternoon sun lit up the sky as he leafed through the last few pages of a popular culture magazine, which he stole from the future.
"Oh... my... GOD she's a slut!" he said, after reading about Christina Aguilera. "I mean, preteen girls are idolizing her, and she's like... DAMN. ...Now Britney Spears is different. I know she may be getting a 'bad rep' from the older crowd, but she's just... redefining herself. She was caught, bound by her pre-established image as a Mouseketeer and a good little girl, and so now that she's trying to break away and be her own person, she may be going a little 'over the edge', overdoing it a bit, to make her point all the more clear. Damn she looks fine though."
"Hey, um, Neil, was it?" the Zombie said, now casting a shadow over him.
"Yeah, what?"
"I'd just like to say that... during this time where I've been gradually growing closer to you like this... I'm just sorry I didn't talk to you more than I did." He let out a heave of breath as he tried to continue, tried to take his feelings and word them. "I'm just sorry that we didn't grow closer PERSONALLY while we did so PHYSICALLY. You know?"
"Yeah, I hear ya."
"Now, um, you do realize I'm about to touch you."
"Uh-huh."
"Now, and--oh, is that Entertainment Weekly?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Does it talk about the Hulk? I was thinking about seeing that."
"Nope, not this ish."
"Darn. Well, where was I? Yeah, and when I touch you, it's gonna hurt."
"Yes, I'm aware," Neil replied.
"So, um... here goes."
Neil suddenly grabbed the slow-moving zombie's hand, dragged it towards the hand grabbing his leg, and smacked it into that evil purple mutanty hand that wouldn't let go. The hand, in an alteration of character, let go, then died.
"Sweet," Neil said.
"Sorry!!" the zombie quickly yelped, bumping into Neil.
"AUH!!!" Neil cried.
.........?!!!
And so ended another chapter of the Adventures of Neil M. Belmont. I hope this was a good one, for my ...several fans who seemed to like the old stuff. I do hope you guys notice this. Don't worry, I'm in a writing mind these days, so I might actually keep working on this!!! But remember, like Public Access, viewer support always helps. I'm not talking about Reviews, either. I'm talking donations, fools.
Love, Auth
Suddenly the door busts open.
"What the hell is this all about, jackass?"
The guy in bed started to get up. "Wha...? I don't wanna get up..."
The in-barger snatched the guy by the back of his shirt and yanked him upwards. "No. No. You're not going back to sleep. It's two o'clock! Get up!!"
"Who ARE you?!" The guy stared at his awaker in horror.
"I am YOUR CREATION!!" he roared. "I am Neil Belmont!!"
"The hell if you're a Belmont!" Terence yelled from a VERY faraway distance of both time and space.
"I am Neil! Neil M.! And you didn't finish my story!! So you know what you're gonna do, jerkweed? You're gonna get your mangy ass outta this bad, eh, maybe WASH yourself off -- got a hose or anything? -- and you're gonna sit at your goddamn computer and do another chapter or I'm gonna get medieval on your ass!!!"
"Uhhnn..." the author groaned, dragging himself out of bed. Neil shoved him along and led him to the computer.
"Now I don't know how these things work, being from hundreds of years ago and all, but you better sit down and make it do all that razzmatazz that it does when you do that make it does that do it stuff that it... er... JUST WRITE!!"
"I'm tired..." the author mumbled, opening up WordPad.
"What the fuggin hell is that all about anyway? You slept for like 12 hours! I asked your parents about it before I killed them and broke in!!"
The author jerked back fearfully, throwing up his arms. "You killed my parents?!"
Neil's face straightened. "No. ...No. I, uh, I told them about some pressing matters they needed to attend to, involving my sword and their bare, fleshy backs and a long-term trip to a landfill, loooong-term, if you know what I mean, and I told them about the cutting I had to do, and the stabbing, and the slow, sloooow grinding and rustling of bones and -- What are you staring at?!"
"Who's your friend?" the author's mother asked, walking up.
"Mom? You're alive?"
"Of course I am. Do you guys need something to drink?"
"Sure... some Pepsi?"
"Okay then, be right back."
"Woah," Neil said to himself. "Who DID I kill?"
"...You freak me out."
"YOU created me. It's your fault."
"Here you are, two Pepsis."
"Thank you, Mrs. *******... what, what're you afraid of? Don't want people hearing your name?"
"Well... yeah, kind of."
"What's wrong with the name ******** ********? Better than muthafuggin' Neil M. Belmont!!!"
"Well, the kids at school used to call me ****."
"****?! HA!! That's a riot!! Haha, how ya doin, ****?"
"I'm kinda tired, actual-"
"Man, don't you know? 'How ya doin' is a formality. In other words, no one actually gives a damn."
"...Oh. That would explain the kids at school looking at me funny when I told them about my miserable life."
"HA! Life sucks fer you, eh ****?" Neil then takes a swig of Pepsi. "Geez, what's in this stuff, ****?"
"Please stop calling me that!!" **** yells. Oops. Make that ******** yells. Better yet, er, *ahem*, "Better yet, Neil, how about you just call me author?"
"Ok, auth. I can do that."
"Alright. How's the Pepsi?"
"It's strong!!! Sweet!! Soooo sweet.... hmm. I like this stuff, except I can feel my teeth dying as we speak."
"Wait'll you get your first caffeine rush."
"Caffeine? Omigod, what's caffeine? Don't tell me it's some sort of mystical magical substance that draws out your soul and enslaves you to the great overlord monsters who force you to dance and sing with raccoons in the glistening moonlight until you can feel the beat, beat, beat of your heart! OH GOD THE BEAT BEAT BEAT!!! And then you look around and everyone else seems fine so you stop and say, 'ok, I guess I should be fine too!' Then you're fine for awhile but then you hear this noise, it's so horrible, it's ringing, and pulsing, and beating and BEAT BEAT BEAT and then you just run around screaming then you fall over and you can't bear it and you roll around in the dirt, moaning and weeping until finally, finally, it's over and you're dead and then they just go and use their magic slave juice on someone else and turn them into a zombie puppet?!"
"...Welcome to the 20th century."
"Now I see why you're so lazy. I'm gonna be pooped when this wears off." He busily taps his fingers on the can. Loudly. The author bites his lip in annoyance.
"Ok, Auth, now get to work on the fic."
"Alright." the Author starts typing.
"Hmmmmmmm.... I think I'm going back now," Neil says, walking off. "So, like, I better not stand there in a daze for 7 months this time, Auth. You, y'know, better write stuff that I do, so I, like, do it. I'm not getting any younger."
"I know, I know. ...Thanks, Neil. Sometimes I need a good boot in the ass."
Neil smiled. "Hey, it's not like you have anything better to do. Your friends never do anything, you work TWO DAYS a week, you're GRADUATED now, and it's not like you got anything better do write, either -- I mean, that Sailor Moon fic? What's up with that?"
Auth's eyebrow twitched. "Hey now! I've had that fic in mind for years, way back to my RPing days. And I'm GONNA finish it."
Neil's eye glittered innocently. "Even if no one reads it?"
Auth chucks a shoe at Neil. Neil gets hit and makes that old Simon Belmont grunting "Auh!" noise. "EVEN IF NO ONE READS IT," he repeated spitefully.
"Well, ok then. You darn well better get to work, man. I guess I'll just... go back to my hometown and wait for the next chapter."
Auth sighs. "Kay. Seeya... (God, what have I created...)."
Neil stops by the front door and plays with a light switch. "Dude, I'm digging this whole electricity thing. They didn't have it in my time, did they?"
"NO, Neil, they didn't. Not that you would have noticed."
Neil continues to stand there playing with it. For several minutes. As Auth writes. His teeth grind as he hears the silver-haired idiot giggling.
"OKAY!!! LEAVE!!!" He grabs Neil and shoves him out the door.
Suddenly, Neil was back in the old Castlevania time/space thingy.
"Okay, now it's time to get back to my quest! (see chapters 1,2,3 to see what I'm doing. or don't, cause I don't care anyway.)"
Neil walked out of the town down a dull path. It was early morning... the sun was not yet over the trees, yet brightness was settling in already. A hand reached up suddenly from the ground and clutched Neil's leg. He tried to walk, but couldn't. Upon closer inspection, he saw a hand reaching up from the ground, clutched onto his leg.
"Huh..." he said, standing there. Suddenly a ghastly zombie rose up from the ground and floated towards him.
"Crap!" Neil said, quickly drawing his trusted, generic blade, the Excalipur. He readied it to swing, dramatically, but the zombie took a good five seconds in drifting to him.
"Come on, if they're flying, they should be faster than this," Neil complained towards the sky.
Suddenly, the zombie was going ridiculously fast and smacked right into him. "AUHH!!" yelled Neil. "Taste Second-rate Steel!" he barked, swinging the blade into the zombie ghost thing and cutting it in two. Another one came flying in at him, as fast as a horse in full speed.
"Holy CRAP!!" Neil said, thrusting the sword hopefully forward and closing his eyes, awaiting a terrible impact. Fortunately, the zombie moronically flew into the sword and died. Well... was destroyed. It was already dead.
Neil looked desperately up at the clouds. "Ok, whatever higher power that heard me and mysteriously made the zombies insanely fast just to spite me... I see my error. And I'm..." he kicked the dirt. "I'm sorry." He nodded admittingly. "Okay, now please change it back."
Suddenly!!! The zombies were going really slow, and he had no immediate concern of them crashing into him. ...so it wasn't so sudden. Well, the change was sudden, but there was nothing else sudden about the zombies. Author made a brainstorm. Suddenly Zombies. An idea for a sitcom. Author decides to stop making comments in the story, realizing that it was a one- time gag at best and he'd probably better not ever include himself in the story again.
...Author burns Suddenly Zombies idea. Author smacks self.
"O...key...doo... key..." Neil says, slowly putting his sword away. "I reckon I'll just start walking away... right... about... huh?! My foot is mysteriously stuck in place!! And my self-narration begins as I trip and fall to the ground! THUD is the noise I just made!! And now Ouch, OUCH it hurts!! But what could be holding my foot in place? It's as if it's being grabbed... or even clutched!! But WHAT sort of sinister impliment, utility, limb, extremity, or compliation of functional, prehensile digits could POSSIBLY grip my leg in place like this?!"
He gazed back at his foot. There was the hand. Oh yeah, he remembered that. With the grabbing, and the holding in place, and the not being able to escape from the zombie that was about to hit him insanely fast until he requested the above whatever to slow it down again and it strangely complied. Now he remembered. He felt melancholic, making these recollections about his past. He wished there was some sort of chronicle of the events he had been through. Then he noticed a Chapter button, and several other chapters. As he scrolled the mouse through the short-but- stout list, he was filled with warm and pleasant memories. A tear came to his eye.
"Hmm..." said Neil. "Omigosh... the Zombies that were coming towards me slowly yet dangerously to my limited health!!!" He looked up to see that the zombie had cleared a full TWO FEET of distance during what seemed like only a second of long and drawn out pointless attempts at the oh-so-brain- hurting thought process he seemed naturally inclined to force himself into despite COMPLETE inadequacy. "OH MY GOD, TWO FEET IN THAT SHORT..." he glanced at his watch. "only FIFTEEN seconds?! WTH?!"
With little time to act, Neil realized his game plan. He had to take out the hand at his foot, so he could stand up and take out the zombies approaching. Before they touched him. Causing damage. Icky awful DAMAGE. He almost said "Auh" just at the thought. But no. He couldn't stop and waste time thinking about things like that. Nor could he stop and think about the fact that he shouldn't stop and think about anything right now. But he was too busy to carry that thought further, no, there was no time. He'd think about it later. If there WAS a later. But there was no time for pessimistic predictions like that. Nor was there time to remind himself that there was no time for pessimistic predictions. Nor was there time for anything!! There was NO time!! Time was like, almost up!! He totally had to just stop thinking about things!! Which was usually so easy!!
"Quck, man, quick!! For God's sake, quick!! What hurts hand?!"
"Hm... hand. Hand is fleshy. Flesh is generally carved by... hmm... what did I carve that old couple in the landfill up with? Ooh, I know, SHARP stuff! Heheh, that was kick-ass. Too bad it wasn't his parents. Then he'd have no excuse. I mean, he'd be at home, like, 'damn, my parents are dead. guess I better write stupid fanfiction like a nerd!' Ha ha. Stupid nerd. Stupid ****. Kick HIS ass anyday."
Neil noticed something... the zombies were closing in!! Still!! But closer than the last time he noticed them closing in, which, given his general understanding of the functions of time, space, and physics, made perfect sense. He had to do something. But what? He couldn't move!
"Oh! That's right!! There's some five-fingered bodily instrument holding me down!! What was it that hurt those... SHARP STUFF!! That's it!! My sword is sharp!!" He pulled out his sword. "I bet if I hit that thing with the sword, it can make it die and stop grabbing me and whatnot!!"
He swung the Excalipur at the hand. It hit. "Sometimes flesh doesn't want to be carved up like grandma's pumpkins... sometimes flesh is hard like grandma's calves!! Sometimes you gotta cut MORE!!" He swung the sword again. It hit. He kept swinging. The hand wasn't dying.
"This sword is WEAK!!!" he complained. "I don't get it. It killed the zombies in one hit!!"
"Everything kills us in one hit," one of the zombies said.
"You can talk?" Neil asked.
"No," the zombie replied.
"Seriously?"
"No, we can't."
"Then what the-"
The zombie screamed. "Drink more caffeine!!"
"NOOO!!! Now i have another reason to escape the hand and kill the zombie before it gets me hooked on the sweet sweet taste of Pepsi."
"Actually, Pepsi's more of an American market thing."
"Ameri-who?"
"We're more of a Coke crowd."
"Oh, that's cool."
"...You don't know what Coke is."
"Sure, my grandpa likes that stuff."
"COCA COLA!!!"
"...Oh. Never heard of it."
"Then DIE!!! When we TOUCH you!!!"
"Great..." Neil groaned. Suddenly he lit up. "I've got it! The sword! And the meaty hand of the thing from the underground!!" He took his sword and stabbed the hand repeatedly. It didn't stop grabbing him.
"Oh no!! For some reason it's not working!!!"
He considered his options.
1) hit hand with swor--- wait. no.
1) hit sword with hand!! might have to give that a try.
2) hit zombie with sword. a little far-fetched....
3) hit zombie with hand. no, hand won't move.
4) hit hand with zombie. now we're talkin!!!
...
Neil waited for the Zombie to approach. The afternoon sun lit up the sky as he leafed through the last few pages of a popular culture magazine, which he stole from the future.
"Oh... my... GOD she's a slut!" he said, after reading about Christina Aguilera. "I mean, preteen girls are idolizing her, and she's like... DAMN. ...Now Britney Spears is different. I know she may be getting a 'bad rep' from the older crowd, but she's just... redefining herself. She was caught, bound by her pre-established image as a Mouseketeer and a good little girl, and so now that she's trying to break away and be her own person, she may be going a little 'over the edge', overdoing it a bit, to make her point all the more clear. Damn she looks fine though."
"Hey, um, Neil, was it?" the Zombie said, now casting a shadow over him.
"Yeah, what?"
"I'd just like to say that... during this time where I've been gradually growing closer to you like this... I'm just sorry I didn't talk to you more than I did." He let out a heave of breath as he tried to continue, tried to take his feelings and word them. "I'm just sorry that we didn't grow closer PERSONALLY while we did so PHYSICALLY. You know?"
"Yeah, I hear ya."
"Now, um, you do realize I'm about to touch you."
"Uh-huh."
"Now, and--oh, is that Entertainment Weekly?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Does it talk about the Hulk? I was thinking about seeing that."
"Nope, not this ish."
"Darn. Well, where was I? Yeah, and when I touch you, it's gonna hurt."
"Yes, I'm aware," Neil replied.
"So, um... here goes."
Neil suddenly grabbed the slow-moving zombie's hand, dragged it towards the hand grabbing his leg, and smacked it into that evil purple mutanty hand that wouldn't let go. The hand, in an alteration of character, let go, then died.
"Sweet," Neil said.
"Sorry!!" the zombie quickly yelped, bumping into Neil.
"AUH!!!" Neil cried.
.........?!!!
And so ended another chapter of the Adventures of Neil M. Belmont. I hope this was a good one, for my ...several fans who seemed to like the old stuff. I do hope you guys notice this. Don't worry, I'm in a writing mind these days, so I might actually keep working on this!!! But remember, like Public Access, viewer support always helps. I'm not talking about Reviews, either. I'm talking donations, fools.
Love, Auth