Wangmas

"Fuck Christmas."
I looked away from my laptop at Miriam. "What?"
"Seriously, it makes no sense." She threw her hands up and donned a derpy voice. "Well, here's an idea. European, African, Latin, and Asian immigrants should celebrate the birthday of a Jewish dude born fucking two thousand years ago, and here's the really fun part! We'll do it in THE WRONG GODDAMN MONTH!"

She had that irritated stare again - the one I usually associate with a cat who doesn't like it when you yank on the tail. She was waiting for a response to bounce off of.

"Well... maybe you should make a new holiday?"

She spun on the couch to face me directly. "YES! EXACTLY! I've already got the idea somewhat made." She made the "my fish was thiiiis big" motion with her hands and went on. "Wang." 

She looked at me and blinked.
"You want to make a holiday based on a penis?"
"Not just any penis, a super awesome one that shoots out powdered sugar and taco meat and NO! Not a penis. I'm referring to the name. Jesus isn't even Jewish anymore. "Hey-Zeus." I was thinking of creating a holiday based on some guy named Wang. There are a lot of Asians in the world. Hell, there's a whole continent for them. It'll be like a giant birthday party for some guy named Wang."
"Merry Wangmas."
"We'll put the actual birthday in like... March. Then we can actually celebrate it during the early summer. If they decided Jesus was born near the winter solstice, about four months later than he really was, an actual March birthday should translate into June. Hell, we can even make the Pagan connection and move it to the summer solstice!" She slumped back into the couch. "All hail our savior, Wang."

Jeff the nerd.

"Alright, if we are going to ride in this car, we at least have to agree never to play these horrendous vaginal squealings."
I clicked the radio to a different station, just as the terrible voice on the other end started to sing "...want to get a waaaaaeeeeyy...."
Willy pulled his finger from his nose. "Agreed."
We had 'borrowed' an older Suburban from a man who was chewing on the steering wheel while grunting at it. It seemed as thought he partially knew what he was doing, but couldn't figure anything out beyond sitting and making a mess on the driver's seat. We saved ammo by dispatching him with a brick.
The last few miles getting into the campus were pregnant with infected jumping out at us while we were trying to avoid hitting haphazardly-parked cars. The hood and bumper of the car was a greasy smear of congealed blood.
I pulled into the driveway of my former fraternity house, which seemed relatively untouched. Judging by the quantity of nerds that haunted the house, they probably were still unaware that the majority of the Cities was crawling with the very creatures they had killed a million times over in video games.
I thumped on the door a few times, waited the obligatory 90 seconds, and used my keys to open the door.
"Why did you knock if you had the keys?"
"I don't live here, and I'd rather have an idea if there were zombies in here, BEFORE I just hop in."
"Oh, so we should expect zombies then."
"No, the zombies would have been a lot more likely to open the door."
"Oh yeah, these guys. Why are we here?"
"Everybody knows that in case the zombie apocalypse actually happens, you need to bring one hardcore nerd with you; just don't give him a gun. Give him an axe. He needs the exercise."
We crept up the stairs carefully, checking every corner carefully before proceeding. Finally, we came to techno pumping from the room labeled "203." I raised my fist to knock on the door.
"Wait! I love this song!"
*Knock knock*
Jeff came to the door and peered through the cracked door. His eyes popped open when he saw me. "Isaac! Hey man!"
"Hey Jeff, how are you? Have you left the room lately?" He opened the door a little more, and a wave of BO, Axe, and doritoes greeted our noses.
"Um, yeah, I took a pee about two hours ago. Why?"
"No, I mean, have you left the house recently?"
He gave a nervous laugh. "No, I studied ahead and coincidentally bought the brand new Resident Death game! I've been pretty much locked into it."
Willy slapped the door. "Pack your warfighter gear, son. We have an infection outbreak."
Jeff's eyes grew huge. "Fuck me! Really? For real? Do. Not. Joke. About. That." He grabbed Willy's collar.
"Em, no." He pushed Jeff's hand from his collar. "I may have accidentally caused it. There're fucking zombies everywhere."
"I'm on my way! Let me grab my sword!"
I looked right at Willy and said "See? I bought a sword, just in case zombies happened. Youuuu came out with a fucking table leg!"

Boobs, Sandwiches, and... a Boner

Willy and I decided to stop and get a sub sandwich before continuing to the U. The shop's garish green and red "OPEN" sign was lit, so we walked in with our guns tucked into our waistline. Willy mentioned his concern that it was entirely possible for the gun to go off with castrating consequences, so I clicked my safety on.
There were no people that we could see or hear. The place look as if everyone had just run out of the building, leaving their food slowly moldering on the table; like a fire drill, but without the annoying squelches.
"Hello?" I said hesitantly. "I really want a sandwich!"
"Hey, Isaac. You know all those corpses we've seen outside? I think that may have something to do with the emptiness in here. Just guessing."
"It pays to be polite."
I hopped over the cashier counter and landed with what was (I like to imagine) a graceful "thunk."
The refrigeration seemed to be working and the bread fresh, so I started putting together a roast beef sandwich on whole wheat bread. After all, the apocalypse was no time to forget about sandwiches.
"What can I make you, sir?" I said in my best pubescent voice.
"I'll have uhhhh... ummm...." Willy said in his best moron customer voice, somehow incorporating a southern accent into it.
His expression changed abruptly, staring behind me. It appeared to be a mixture betwee horror and sexual attraction. I slowly turned.
I should take this time to interject a key feature of the male mind, in case females haven't figure this one out. Anytime female nudity is present, it kind of blocks most other features out for at least a second, or up to... about 35 years.
The girl was shuffling towards us uncertainly with a blank stare I normally only associated with a cheerleader attempting to understand something. Well, anything.
Her bloodshot eyes has a sort of wild feral gaze, her mouth hanging open and dribbling blood. Oh yeah, she was completely naked.
I yanked my 9mm out and pulled the trigger. I pulled it a few more times, before she jerked back sideways and lay still on the ground.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Willy still holding the smoking .38 special. I looked at my gun. The safety was on. "They always told me to put the safety on or terrible things would happen. I think some rules will need to be rewritten."
Willy lowered his gun and put it in his pocket. "If I'm out shooting gorgeous naked infected, I'm not going to be writing rules down." He folded his arms into his thinking pose, finger in his nose. "What do you think, are computer games better than the real thing?"
It was a valid question. We played first-person shooters almost exclusively, with the occasional blast back to the old games.
"I don't know. Ammo might be more difficult to find out here, but it's also a lot easier to make a melee weapon. But, you know, only one life out here."
He nodded. "One, unless you get infected, which we can't."
I heard the sliding on the floor and looked down. The girl was crawling through a pool of darkening-blood with the same cheerleader expression, but a little more pissed-off.
"Hey Willy, jump over here for a second. We need to check something for science."
He hopped over and promptly jumped back onto the counter, fumbling again for his weapon.
"No!" I yelled, "Don't shoot her! Just hold her down for a second."
Willy glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. "What? Look, I know it's been awhile, but under the circumstances, I don't think you should.."
"Willy, I'm not gonna pork a zombie." The girl was only a few feet away now. She picked herself off the floor.
"Fine." He inched his way around the side of her as I slowly climbed back onto the counter. She glanced over at Willy, who froze solid.
"Hey you ornery shoulder-leaking period bitch! Over here!" I yelled and jumped up and down on the counter. She looked back at me and growled in a surprisingly animal voice.
"Jump on her!" I yelled.
Willy yelled and sprinted a few steps from behind her, before slipping on the blood and sliding into her legs. She flopped over backwards and smacked her head on the floor, lying still.
Willy picked himself back up while scrambling towards the counter. "Well, she seems to be down. And leaking. From her head."
"Great." I crouched by her form and put my hand on her neck. "There's no pulse." I said.
Willy frowned and adopted his thinking pose again, nearly putting his finger in his nose before seeing the blood on it. "So, she's been dead for a bit, or her heart stopped when she fell?"
I stood back up. "I think they are actually zombies, like, proper dead zombies." My suspicions were confirmed when she groaned and started to right herself.
BLAM! Willy popped her in the head this time.
"I'm not going to try to figure this one out until after we get the vaccine out there, Willy stated matter-of-factly.
"Why was she naked in here?" I mumbled, half to myself.
"Maybe she was taking a really big-" Willy started and looked back towards the bathrooms. "There's your answer."
A young man, mostly-dressed in his sub-shop uniform, was waddling towards us with his pants around his ankles. His penis was sticking straight out and making a sickening fap fap fap sound as he tried to walk.
"Hanky-Panky in the bathroom, eh? What a way to go!" Willy was grinning and aiming.
I pushed his hand aside and pulled out my 9mm. "I get one too."
BLAM!
Perfect. Fucking. Headshot.
Now, to wash our hands and eat our sandwiches.

/whereis Motivation

Willy spun the cylinder and clicked it back into place, satisfied with the contents. Leaning over the two corpses, he rummaged around gingerly in Johnny's knapsack until he found a few boxes of shells and a large hunting knife. "I'm set for a while, unless I'll need more than forty rounds."
Angie appeared to have sobered up a lot. Seeing someone decapitated will do that, especially when there is blood spattered all over your shirt.
"Hey guys," Angie said with a furrowed brow, "We should probably make the most of our time. Kate and I can make our way to the hospital to find a helicopter, while you two keep on to the U."
Willy was rubbing a spot off his boot with a piece of Johnny's jacket. "That sounds good. Isaac and I both know are way around a lab, and neither of you are afraid of heights. Kate could copilot." He pulled back from his boots to see the glare. "Damn, blood makes these shinier than spit. I gotta remember that one."

The World Happens to be Ending

We only made it two blocks before meeting someone. Thankfully, people's natural fear of firearms made them horrible shots. We heard the shot and a chunk of pavement exploded to our side.
"Shit!" yelled Kate, tackling me into an alley. We hit the ground with a crunch. The others ducked and followed us.
"Why did someone shoot at us?" Angie asked with wide eyes.
"Uh, guys. Look at us," said Kate.
She was right. We were generally somewhat disheveled, the females being a bit more refined. I suppose it made sense that someone would shoot at us.
"Hey there!" Willy yelled. "How about not fucking shooting at us!"
A pause. "How do I know you ain't them zombie things?"
Willy took a deep breath. "Because, if I remember my horror movies, zombies don't speak in educated discourse, if at all!"
Another pause. "Aright, that works for me. But, if you try to bite me, I'm going to shoot the shit out of you!"
Willy responded. "You have a deal!"
We stepped out and saw our wheelchair-bound apartment mate holding a rather large revolver. "I only missed 'cause I sneezed. Y'all are damn lucky!"
"What is happening out here? Where is everyone?" I asked
"Have you been under a goddamn rock? Not only did they send out messages in every media outlet, but they sent out Humvees with loudspeakers, telling everyone to take cover and lock their doors!"
"Really?" Willy said. "We were, um, drinking and playing video games. Come to think of it, it was kind of loud."
"So you didn't hear about the Hell Virus? At all?"
Angie spoke up. "Well, actually, Willy here invented..."
Willy interjected. "Ha, we saw a few reports. I thought it was, you know, those dirty terrorists or something."
"Yeah. Fuckin' Haji probably is behind th.."
Before his sentence completed, a man landed on his wheelchair, having jumped from a window above us. The man righted himself, thumping Johnny with an obviously-shattered arm, while biting on his neck."
"Shit! Fuck! Shit!" Johnny yelled.
I pulled my 9mm and and tried to get a bead on the man's head. It was difficult, since the man kept biting and yanking back. Eventually, after a series of bite, pull, bite, pull, I pulled the trigger.
BLAM!
The guy's head jerked back with a spray of blood, bone, and some more blood.
Willy's eyes were wide. "Dude! You fucking shot that guy! In the fucking head! That was awesome!!!" He stared for a few seconds and said "I think I need a gun."
"Yeah, if we find one. Oh wait! Look!" Johnny threw the corpse off of him and stood, an impressive task, considering he was in the wheelchair since the 70's.
"AAAAAHHHH!!!" Johnny yelled, as he limped towards us with bloodshot eyes. I mean, they were really bloodshot, like all the white was replaced with red.
I took aim just as Kate ran forwards with a battle-cry that would have made the Spartans crap themselves.
I had always thought that the canned, tinny noise of a movie sword was unrealistic. I was right.
Thunk.
Johnny's head spun off and landed in his wheelchair, where it stayed, working its jaws for a few seconds before it stared blankly forward.
Kate was grinning like a kid finding a five-dollar bill in her nostril. "Holy cow! This sword is awesome!"
We stared for a few seconds before Willy jumped towards Johnny's lower half. "Hey, I found a gun!"

Ikea-Brand Skull-Cracker

We pounded on the door for about a ninety seconds- the length of time we called "the hurry-and-wipe time"- and made our way to the entrance of the aging apartment building when there was no answer. As far as we knew, Johnny didn't leave the building more than a few times a month. He enjoyed his privacy.
I jingled my keys absently, while I thought of something. "If the infection has made it out to Suburbia, it's probably safe to say that it's here too."
Willy looked at the shotgun in his hand. "I'm going to grab something different."
He grabbed my keys and ran up the stairs two at a time.
I cracked open the door and peeked out. Everything looked normal; this area of the city was still a craphole, but it didn't look any worse than normal, except that no people were on the streets, not even the normal homeless people at the dilapidated bus stop.
Will hopped back down the stairs.
"It looks clear," I said, opening the door slowly and stepping into the chill of the early Fall.
The street was even quieter than the little crack in the door showed.
"Alright, since the streets ahead may be blocked off, we'll go on foot to..." I trailed off. "What is that?" I asked Willy.
"It's something I just invented, using things from the apartment!" He smacked his palm with the club and grinned. "See, I took this chunk of wood -"
Angie interrupted. "Is that a leg from my table?"
"Yep," said Willy, as Angie grabbed the club from him.
Angie sighed. "Dude, that's from Ikea." She hit the wall lightly. "I don't think it will hold up too long." She handed it back.
Willy cleared his throat. "Anyways, I took this table leg and the roll of bailing wire, and wrapped some silverware onto the shaft."
Kate snorted. "Shaft..." she mumbled under her breath.
Willy raised an eyebrow at Kate and continued. "Now it has enough weight and hardness to crack a skull."
"Why the duct tape?" I asked.
Willy shrugged. "Why not? You can never go wrong with tape."
I nodded. "You're right. We'll see if we can get you a pipe or brick or something later."

Why Does the Car Always Break Down?

We were finally making progress, after brewing a half-pot of coffee and forcing Angie to drink it. Of course, it was cut by a few ice cubes to avoid a severely-burnt throat. She, and most of us, were in the post-drinking stupor - that special place where you are not hung over, but your brain doesn't seem to cooperate normally.
While feeding Angie the strong, "Local Coffee Shop presents 'Ethiopian Coffee,'" we watched the news.
All the major news organizations were on the story. Whenever a few Americans are killed, everyone shows up. I wouldn't have been surprised to see champagne in the news trailers, celebrating a brand new tragedy.
In the hour we watched, the news story had gone from "The Minneapolis Massacre" to "Terror Attack in the Homeland." The world of instant information had provided enough information, via text, phone, and email, to inform them that the tragedy was caused by biological warfare. Willy seemed to have a confused look on his face the whole time.
We learned from the constantly-updated news that the virus had spread to the edges of Minneapolis and was infecting the suburbs. I secretly gave a high-five to Kate.
"I'm not a terrorist. Am I?" Willy asked.
I replied "You are now, buddy. But, it's okay. It was well-intended."
He looked from the TV to me. "Do you still have your guns here?"
I rolled my eyes. "Of course. I can even carry them legally! Well, maybe not the sword."
Willy stood up with a flourish. "Judging by the circumstances, I think it's all legal now!"
I mirrored his extravagant rise. "Wait here!"
I ran up the stairs to my room. I had always made it a habit to keep my two guns -a .38 special and a 9mm semi-auto- always loaded, and with enough ammo to make sure I could shoot for hours without a trip to Wal-Mart.
I grabbed both the guns and their holsters, packed a bag with all the ammo I had, and grabbed my custom-made Samurai sword off the wall.
I got back to the couch and sat down, guns and all. "I get the nine. Who wants the other pistol?"
Angie raised her hand first. "Me!!"
Kate saw the lengthy bulge, protruding from the backpack I had on my lap. "Is that THE sword? I call that!!!"
I pulled it out and handed it over. After all, she had single-handedly invented hobo-fencing. Most of the hobos didn't agree, but they all had defended admirably.
Willy put his hands out with a gesture of confusion. "What do I get?"
I replied. "Well, you should have bought that shotgun when you had the chance." It was a reference to a 3:00 am trip to our favorite Wal-Mart, where he decided to buy a stereo instead of a shotgun. We never actually thought it would come in handy.
"Hey, you have a shotgun!" He retorted.
I hadn't really thought about it. My dad had given it to me in his will, a year before he died.
"It won't help. I don't have any shells for it."
"We'll find some. I'd bet that the neighbor above us has tons of various shells."
He was right.
We had only talked to Johnny twice, and both times he had told us some highly-irrelevant story about Vietnam. Based on his anti-government talk, we had all assumed he had a small arsenal in his apartment.

The Beginning of WTF

We sat for a couple hours waiting for the vaccine to kick in. Angie was sure that it was causing her ovaries to rot (as she told us several times), but after giving her more whiskey, she eventually just sat on the couch and sang more Irish-sounding songs, eventually retiring to the floor.
I looked over at Willy, who was sitting on the other side of the couch. "Now what?" I asked.
"Well, you guys aren't dead. That's a start. What do you think we should do?"
"We probably should have called the cops about two hours ago, although I imagine if the virus is as bad as you say, someone has called them by now."
Willy scratched his hat. "Let's watch the news. Someone would have mentioned if the city was infected."
I grabbed the remote and turned the input from "Contra" to cable.
I turned it off shortly after seeing the helicopter view of the University, the lawns scattered with bodies and flames shooting out of various buildings.
Kate spoke up. "I think you cornholed Minneapolis, Willy." She smiled, breaking into a giggle. "Get it? Willy cornholed Minneapolis? Ha!"
Willy just blinked. "I think I'm supposed to cry and ask God 'Why me?'" He scratched his hat again, looked down, and rubbed a spot off of his boot. "I hope my laptop is still there."
I sat up from the couch. "Hey, Willy! Can you make more of that vaccine?"
He thought for a moment. "Yeah, I think so. The supplies are all in there, unless they are all busted up."
I turned to Angie, who was still humming while lying on the floor, using one of my boots as a pillow. I didn't care; I never polished mine. "Hey! ANGIE! WAKE UP!"
She rolled her head across the toe. "Yeeeeeessss?"
"Didn't you take a few lessons in flying?"
She poked her tongue out of the side of her mouth while thinking. "Yep, I did that. I definitely did that."
"Could you fly a helicopter?" I asked.
She poked her tongue out of the other side of her mouth and blinked at me. "Yep. Maybe. No. Kinda."
"What??"
"I said YES.... kinda."
"If we all stole a helicopter and you drove it, would we die on takoff, flight, or landing?"
She stared at the ceiling and sighed. "Propbably not. I mean, Jebus Christ. All I gotta do is get the damn thing within twelve feet of the ground, and if it drops, we probably won't die. It's not like it's rocket science. It's just.... Helicopter science." She giggled.
Willy and Kate both just stared, one of those blank looks that spoke volumes of confusion.
Kate reached over, grabbed an ice cube from a glass, and threw it at me. "What's your point?"
"Well, if Willy could make a whole bunch of vaccine, and I could make the charge that dispersed it into crowds, we could contain this thing, if we can sober Angie up and find a helicopter."
Willy took his thinking pose: sitting back with his legs and arms crossed with a finger in his nose. "That could actually work. I'm pretty sure that the vaccine can be airborne."
"Well, I think we need to get you to your lab!" I exclaimed, jumping up from the couch.
Willy and Kate jumped up too. "Frabjous!" Kate said.
Angie giggled again. "CRAB JUICE!" She yelled.

Willy Screws a Virus

"Shitshitshitshitshitshit!!!" Willy yelled, throwing open the door to the apartment, which crashed open with a loud "bang," waking the rest of us from our slumber on and near the couch.
We didn't ask, we just stared, waiting for the inevitable story. He tossed his longboard on the floor with anouth "bang," and set the white, Styrofoam cooler on the coffee table.
Despite his obvious hurry, he took the time to remove his polished boots.
Finishing, he jumped back up and opened the cooler. "I need to inject you guys with something right now." We all stood up to look in the cooler. Two 25 mL vials were packed in ice, and a packaged needle was sitting on top.
I raised an eyebrow as he ripped the needle out of the packaging. "I don't know whether to smack you for thinking that you are going to inject us with something, or smack you because you only brought one needle for three people."
He paused, looking at the needle in his hand. "Well, none of you have AIDS or the HIV, right? Or... Ebola?"
He was the master of making things work that were not supposed to.
Angie spoke up. "Back up, and tell us... what the fuck."
I backed her up. "Slow down, and breathe a little."
He took a deep breath and blew it out his nose in a hissing nose. "Alright. You remember how I said I was going to cure cancer?"
We all nodded.
"Well, we were actually really close to it. We modified a virus so it would only attack cancer cells. But, that wasn't all. We had to use it in conjunction with another virus that um, 'enhanced' the way the body heals itself. That way, we could inject the virus and it wouldn't attack more than it was supposed to."
We all knew he was trying his hardest to translate his research into 'people terms.'
I motioned with my hand. "...And?"
"Well, it worked on rats. But, you remember a couple days ago when Jesse had that nasty tumor removed from his leg?" We remembered. He was irked because the doctors wouldn't let him help cut it out.
"Yes, vividly."
"Okay. The idiot decided to come into work, even though he wasn't supposed to walk for another couple days.
"He was working on the virus, but dropped the dish on the table, spilling the mess on his leg. He didn't put the inhibitor virus in it, either."
"So, he's out sick and somehow we need a shot?" Angie said.
"Well, kind of. He cussed like a Mormon for a minute, then passed out on the floor. Here's where it gets more interesting."
He thought for moment, forming his words carefully.
"We work with a lot of viruses. When one looks particularly unpleasant, I take the extra time to find a suitable vaccine for it. I did so with this one a couple months ago, when we started testing. I've been immune to this virus for almost two weeks now."
Kate was poking her belly-bruises. "You injected untested virus into yourself?"
"Yeah! You know how many hurdles a drug company has to go through to get a drug approved for humanoid use? It didn't kill the rats, so I thought, hell, why not."
"How did you use find the vaccine?" I said.
"You know how vaccines work, right?" Two of us nodded. I won't tell you who didn't.
"Fine. Think about the Smallpox vaccine. You take a similar virus that doesn't kill humans, inject it, your white cells go apeshit on it, and through the magic of science, you don't catch normal Smallpox." He made a biting motion with his hand while describing the epic battle of man-vs.-vaccine. "So, that's pretty much what I did."
Angie rolled her eyes. "So, why do we need this vaccine?"
"Oh, right! Well, Jesse cussed and passed out like a pussy, then got up and tried to attack me. His eyes were bloodshot and he was growling.
"I jimmy-rigged a lock on the door when I ran out, and grabbed my stash from the freezer. I skated home as fast as I could. Just in case this turns out to be an epidemic, I have to get you covered."
Angie crossed her arms. "I remain unconvinced."
"Fine. When I ran out of the building, Jesse had already broken down the door and was violating a group of students who were attempting General Chemistry I. As I ran by, I definitely heard screaming and biting."
"How the hell do you hear biting?" Kate asked.
"It sounds like a scream, followed by what sounds like somebody trying to tear a steak while gargling."
Kate held her arm out. "Good enough for me. I mean, you're not dead."
Angie paled more than her normal self, making her look already-dead. "I don't like needles."
"You'll be fine. It's just sharp metal going into your vein. Nothing to worry about. Do you have any rubbing alcohol?"
"No. The homeless guy drank it."
"Everclear?"
"Duh!" Angie jumped up and ran into the kitchen.
Willy furrowed his brow. "Aren't you guys supposed to be at work?"
We each were injected by Willy's mystery virus and inhibitor, after Everclear-sterilizing. Angie promptly passed out on the couch, until we slapped her a few times.

What's Black, Blue, and Really Pale?

"Ow! Ow! Okay! You win again!!"
Kate release the painful hold on my leg. "Eat is, Bitch!"
She had already whipped Willy, who had thrust his hand in the air and declared Kate a "charlatan and vengeful goat-humper."
We all sat back on the couch, as the stereo randomly chose Michael Jackson's "Thriller" for our recovery music.
I looked over to Kate. "How's your tongue?"
She made a grimace of distaste. "I think I should have cleaned the counter better. I swear I still taste crunchy muffin bits, or maybe cereal..." She trailed off, looking over at Angie. "Coconut Cake," they said simultaneously. "How's your nuts?"
I gave a mirror-image of her grimace. "I'm gonna have them removed if you keep using the 'Monkey Pick Peaches' move."
Willy came flying down the stairs from his little sleeping section of the house. "It's Tuesday?? What the hell, man? Is it three yet?"
I looked at my bare arm. "It's about ten-til."
"Throw my boots this way!"
Angie whipped them across the room towards the stairs. Willy began lacing them up furiously. "At least biochem gets more interesting after Jack."
Willy had finished his master's last year and had been playing lab rat at the University of Minnesota ever since. He assured us, multiple times, that he would cure cancer, at least in rats. We mostly believed that he could, or he would be the cause of the next big swine flu.
He had recently broke up with his girlfriend of nearly three months. They seemed to get along, but his graphic details of drug testing on rats made her extremely agitated. Damn vegans.
He grabbed his longboard from by the door, turned, and gave an awkward, left-handed, British salute and said "Auf Weiner stain!" before running out the door.
Willy was the first friend I met when I moved to Minneapolis. We were in most of the same classes, but he had a lot more drive than I did. After graduation, he immediately jumped into grad school, practically begging the advisers to stay, instead of moving on to another university. We were all glad he did.
I met Kate on the internet, by totally random chance. That favorite social networking site really came through one night, when I wound up talking to her for about three hours. After a long discussion about ways a person could die from a noodle, we decided to be friends.
Angie came shortly after, as she was Kate under a different name, but different. We called them "The Irish Twins," not because of ethnicity, but because of the red hair, love of whiskey, and punching various objects.
We all eventually decided to get an apartment.

We could use a sham-wow.

"Fuck!"

We were out of paper towels, napkins, rags...and I'd just spilled some halfway decent whiskey. Angie grabbed the bottle from me as she swung me around in a just-invented dance move.
"Must I remind you, Willy, this is why she's not allowed to handle important things past 3 PM."

"You-you're-your...oh, shit! Untamed whiskey!" I dove to lick up the drink I'd spilled, forgetting to formulate my insult. The taste test again proved to be delicious, even mixed with crumbs from the counter. A few breadcrumbs never hurt anyone, aside from those Albinos with the severe gluten allergy. I paused for a moment to remember that day.Then there was the matter of the floor. It never scrubbed clean. I ripped part of my shirt off to wipe it up which exposed part of my stomach-a mine field of bruises from previous days of fighting. I was always proud of the way I could take a punch, especially from a 260 pound skinhead. Angie handed out the shots as I finished the clean-up. I stood up and grinned. Willy raised his glass the highest, took a deep breath, and slammed. He walked back towards the couch with a quiet smile, like a screaming infant subdued.

The rest of us shrugged and followed suit. I wiped my mouth and turned to Alan with my most devious smile.

"Shall we...fight to assert dominance?"

I wanted to practice my personal favorite, hand-to-hand combat. It always got me in much less trouble then when I'd drop electronics over the interstate, or the kid who works the grounds at the archery range...plus I could always use hand/eye coordination practice. The bottles of whiskey I continually spilled from would agree.

Willy jumped up again.

"Me!"

Inappropriate Bookmark

I opened the door to the apartment. Willy was sitting on the couch with his boots on the coffee table, reading "The Universe in a Nutshell." Kate and Angie were drinking whiskey and singing something in the next room, using fake English accents.
"Top of the mornin' to ya!" Willy said in an Irish accent.
"Why did you put your boots on the table?" I wasn't annoyed, just curious.
"Oh, the Irish twins decided to go on a cleaning spree. I didn't want to get the floor dirty." He wiggled his toes on the floor for emphasis.
"Oh, right. The twins are drinking already?"
"Yeah, it's Friday and they are working nights. They said they didn't want to waste good drinking time at work, so they wanted to drink half the whiskey before their shift, and the rest when they get back."
I nodded. It sounded like a good idea. I turned and swaggered towards the kitchen. "Yar, pour me a shot, fair wenches!" The only accent I could think of was "Pirate."
Willy looked up from his book. "Um, me too!" No accent. He rummaged around the table for a second, finally deciding to use a piece of sliced cheese as a bookmark. At least it was in the wrapper, and it wasn't nacho cheese, like the incident involving "A Brief History of Time."

Unfortunate Vampire Convention

Willy and I drove through the night, generic Midwestern farms, houses, and trailers whizzing by us. I could just imagine the little chintzy wooden plaques covered in pastel colors, with messages like "Bless This House," and "Home Sweet Home" written in those ugly letters. I wondered absently how many people would buy the crafts if, instead of happy little snowmen, pictures of skinless monkeys and the like were painted.
I must haved dozed off again. Willy was smacking me with an empty Pringles can. "Dude, we're there. Wake up wake up wake up..." He volunteered to drive through the night, saying that it was a good opportunity to think. I suspected that he enjoyed the opportunity to chew on caffeine pills and listen to techno for six hours straight. The best way to describe his personality was... Obsessive.
The re-frozen snow crunched under our boots as we walked up to the warehouse. It looked like a suitable location for our meeting: large, open, and with plenty of space for our guests with wings.
We were the first to arrive, but the others followed shortly after. The first guest was Ahmed ibn-Qa'ali, representing the Djiin. He wore a suit that seemed to pull light into it, making it appear as if it were made out of a black hole. He pulled up in a black Lincoln drove by a man whose face seemed like it had been painted on, literally.
The next arrival was Steve, representing the Vampires. He arrived in a similar fashion as the Djiin, but instead wore sunglasses and long black robes that left no skin exposed to the sunlight. That seemed to make sense, at least to me. Willy poked me. "Look at this guy. He looks like an Afghani woman. Heh."
The other representatives arrived over the next five minutes. We took our seats around the folding tables. Willy was in charge of setting up the place, and he apparently forgot to add the lights to the room. Fortunate, because the Vampire representative may have been a little irked.
Willy tapped his Rungu stick on the table for attention. The sparse conversation drifte off.
"Ahem. Gentlemen... or, whatever you happen to be, you all know why we are here. Since I figured there would be some tension in the room, due to various disagreements, wars, and douchbaggery, I have decided that we should begin this meeting on a lighter note. My distinguished guests, please welcome DJ Squeaks!"
The curtain set up on the end of the room dropped as the steady thump-tss of techno began playing. The guests looked confused for a split second before regaining their composure. Even they knew this was weird.
The music swelled and crashed as bright lights struck the disco ball hanging from the ceiling. The Vampire sqealed and fell off his chair, pulling his hood back on and fumbling with his sunglasses.
"Willy!" I yelled. "Turn that off! You're pissing off the Vampire!"

Smoke Detectors

*Beep*
The happy little tone buzzed out of the tiny speakers, letting me know there was a new email.
"MONTHLY SMOKE DETECTOR INSPECTION:

"Please inspect your smoke detectors by close of business today. If you do not know how, please reply to this email.

"Thank you,
"Sergeant Stromwell"

I wasn't doing anything important at the time, so I logged off the computer, put on my sunglasses, and strolled into the ridiculously bright sunlight. Why does it always smell like someone released a cloud of molecular turds in the air? And then lit it on fire?
Arriving at my tiny living unit, I stepped in and kicked at the carpet made from semi-dirty clothes (which I left there because I could totally wear them a few more times), and picked up the smoke detector lying on the desk. There was no battery in it.
Yep, it looks like it probably still works.