Get Zombie: 8-Book Set (76 page)

So
many beefy hands reach down and grab his man-boobs. He squeals like a
chased pig and is pulled up. Polly yells at them to be gentle. There
is the whirr of an irate buzz-cutter.

Seconds
later, Mr. Snake falls from the attic, naked, and rolls down the
hallway like crumpled paper. His penis is erect, his eyes are
bloodshot and black and blue, his arms are bent at impossible angles,
and his hair has been shaved off.

A
wind chime has been stapled to his testicles, though, amazingly, no
blood is seen.

This
poor fellow uses his chin to crawl toward me with his mouth pooling.
There’s a hideous clucking sound coming from his throat. He
doesn’t blink. I wonder if he can even see through those thick,
red eyes.

The
gigantic Hawaiian men jump down from the attic, in slow motion. They
fold their arms across their chests as they coolly walk after Mr.
Snake. A naked Polly falls down onto the hallway with a comical yelp,
jumping to her feet and pushing through the mob. She flies her body
down over Mr. Snake to protect him. A Hawaiian man picks her up by
the ankle and covers his eyes so as to not see her vagina region,
because he’s a gentleman.

I
eye a knife in a tall glass of water, on the table.

The
tiny man bites his nails, looking at his watch over and over. Mr.
Snake and Polly are brought to his attention – held in the air
by their feet, wiggling like confused fishies and whining.

“Weeeeee!
Weeeeeeeee!” they complain.

Tiny
man walks behind them and slaps their buttocks, violently, while
grunting in anger.

He
stands before Mr. Snake, who’s crying in an extreme way. His
drool bubbles and runs down into his nostrils and marinates his red
eyes.

The
tiny man takes hold of Mr. Snake’s cheeks with one hand.

“You
owe us a movie, you leaky anus you.”

Mr.
Snake responds in a calm, friendly voice, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,
not mad…just greatly disturbed.”

“The
film will be done soon. Count on it.”

“It’s
not how long it’s taking that disturbs me.”

“Oh?”

“No.
It’s the fact that you didn’t follow my instructions
about the fair usage of amputees. What were you thinking, leaky anus?
You knew I’d come down and complain.”

“Sorry,
I’m diabetic.”

“I
will be sending some appropriate actors over, seeing how you failed
to provide your own. I suggest you use them. This is an untouched
market. This is a virgin market. Thar be gold here! Now what’s
the matter with you?”

“Uhg.
Blood rushing down into my upside-down face. Uhg!”

The
tiny man leans in close to him and says: “Now your punishment.
I saw this in Spiderman.”

He
kisses Mr. Snake’s upside-down mouth. The Hawaiian men all go
“Aww” and look at each other, smiling. Some of them are
smoking rollem’ up cigarettes.

The
tiny man releases his lip-lock with a POP and puts his hand to his
dizzy head. Mr. Snake swings back and forth in the air, and then
weeps with quivering lips.

“Oh,
hot Jesus…The Kiss of Herpes!”

“There
is no cure for herpes. And there are many different kinds.”

Mr.
Snake jiggles his body in anger, the wind chime chiming.

“I
want to kiss my children in the future! You bastard!”

The
tiny man laughs.

Polly
spits into his mouth.

He
is surprised.

“Human
saliva is not clean like a dog’s.”

Polly
spits into his mouth.

“How
dare you give him herpes?? You’ve ruined everything!”

“You
want some too, faggit?!”

“Please,
no. Forgive me on this fateful night. Now I will say good day to you,
sir.”

Fatty
bows and puts on a pair of shades, although it’s nighttime.

“Now
I will leave you, Mr. Snake, so you may complete your film.”

“Yessssssssm.”

The
tiny man tips his invisible hat.

“Goodbye,
Polly.”

“Goodbye,
kind sir.”

“Goodbye,
Mr. Snake.”

“Goodbye,
Boseefus.”

Mr.
Snake and Polly are set carefully on the ground, and they sniffle as
the Porn Mafia exit.

I
walk out from the kitchen and calmly lock the sliding glass door,
watching as their Saturn automobiles disappear into thick night,
brake lights blinking red.

I
look to the carpet and see that Mr. Snake and Polly have fallen fast
asleep in each other’s arms.

The
room sighs.

Goddamnit.

In
the morning, Mr. Snake wakes up screeching and mad. He instructs
Polly to squeeze his hands and for me to call an ambulance.

We
get to Straub Hospital. The three female doctors tell us that our
friend is crazy, and that their primary concern is for his testicles.
They ask how a wind chime was stapled to them, and we tell them that
he fell down some stairs. The doctors look at us suspiciously, and
then walk into a room with double doors.

Polly
and I sit alone in the waiting room.

We
say nothing. I purposefully try to breathe as quietly as possible.

Within
fifteen minutes, a joyous Mr. Snake, wearing patient’s clothes,
is released in a motorized wheelchair that’s controlled by his
chin. His arms are in slings. A baseball cap from the 90’s with
a rainbow and the words GO BOWS on it covers his bald head!

We
drive back to the house/set to get back to work. The crew is already
there, and it doesn’t take long for the place to be filled with
more unnecessary adult actors and actresses. I’m getting used
to this. A nude mother, breastfeeding a weeping baby, sits on the
carpet, legs crossed, in front of the TV, watching a documentary on
The Travel Channel about the world’s most scariest places.

What’s
the world’s #1 most scariest place on my list?

Haystack
Landing, just north of San Francisco in the town of Petaluma,
California.

From
now on Mr. Snake will have to direct strictly from his motorized
wheelchair…and he seems fine by it, showing off his new wheels
to everyone in the living room by lifting the front wheels into the
air and spinning around really fast.

He
goes a little too far back and falls over. Everyone gasps and says
“Sorry, sorry” for some reason, helping him as he crawls,
moaning, into his wheelchair.

Once
upright & stable, the fat cat jumps on his lap. Mr. Snake touches
it.

“I
love cats, because they’re quiet.”

At
one o’clock exact, a line of amputees are standing outside the
sliding glass door. There appears to be a total of 10 of them: 5
women with no legs, 5 men with no arms – who have graciously
carried the girls on their shoulders. They have all brought their own
robes, which they are wearing, barefoot. As I let them in, I hear the
roar of a large vehicle, zoom zoom zooming off into the distance.

After
a long introduction by Mr. Snake about the politics and hazards of
the porn industry and how important it is to be very very careful of
herpes, we all get ready for the film’s shot-out-of-order 5th
love scene.

We
all set up in a cramped room with a very high roof. Pink, rubber
ropes dangle. The amputees are tied to these ropes and they begin to
bounce up and down immediately.

“Hurray!
Good!” they all go.

I
set up the camera, messing with the color balance. Mr. Snake comes in
on his wheelchair while eating a brick of tofu in a pink bowl. He
instructs everyone to hurry up toot sweet or else he’ll start
raging. This seems to work, for I notice everyone picking up the pace
and grumbling how much this job doesn’t pay as much as they
thought it would and how much they would, and I quote, ‘love to
stick that brick of tofu up Mr. Snake’s sweet sweet ass’.

While
the technicians prepare the other rubber ropes, the remaining
amputees play on the carpet, entertaining all by sitting on their
buttocks and sliding across the floor with their available limbs,
racing one another and laughing – having a riot. The spectators
bet and cheer them on as their naked flesh race for joy.

Having
finished his tofu, Mr. Snake holds his hands out and claps once,
dramatically: A loud thunder crack.

Everyone
freezes.

He
says with a stern gaze:

“Discipline!”

Everyone
jumps up and scurries around. The director claps again and they all
get in position: The light techies stand behind their lights and
soundboards; the rope techies tie the rubber ropes to the amputees’
hips; the actors and extras get in place, staring at the floor. The
director nods and grunts, “Hmph! So extraordinary.”

People
exhale a sigh of relief.

Someone
lets loose gas.

Shhh.

This
is important.

Mr.
Snake says Action and directs:

“Cue
bounciness!”

The
technicians lift the amputees higher and higher. They bounce up and
down on the rubber ropes. Those with no legs are upside down,
clapping their hands.

“Cue
sex people!”

What
I see next makes me wonder.

An
obese woman, wearing a black, shiny, plastic suit and a red gasmask,
guides in a naked, black couple that I have not seen before. This
strange, enchanting woman holds their hands, petting their hair. The
fat woman’s suit squeaks as she strolls.

The
couple seems afraid. The woman lets them go and they hold each other.
They sit on the bed and the large guide walks away, whistling a
foreboding tune. I notice that her monster buttocks are spilling from
her horror-suit. No one seems to care. What’s going to happen
now?

Odd.
I hear chanting. Where is it coming from?

A
16-year-old girl next to me, holding a large electrical cord that’s
12 inches thick and 3 inches long, is shaking all over. Something is
stank. What is it? I need to know or else it’ll drive me
sideways. Maybe it’s a gaggle of roaches. Cockroaches break
wind every 15 minutes.

Mr.
Snake instructs the black couple to start kissing and to touch each
other in a sexy way: They do, faces uncertain, eyes so scared –
wide, staring into the camera. Mr. Snake says, “Sweet, Jesus!
Don’t look into the camera! Are you professional or not? You
want me to break these lights for some reason?! You and I are done,
man, professionally. But let’s keep going anyway. ACTION!”

They
make love as the amputees dangle above them, spinning and flapping
like bizarre birds.

The
actors lose concentration and stare up at them. Mr. Snake makes a
scary face and the actors begin to cry. They look for a blanket to
hide under, but find nothing but a silver shield – like
something King Arthur would use.

Golden
words on the shield read: King Arthur’s.

Mr.
Snake shrieks out, “And with a blast from his mighty nostrils!”
and the technicians let go of the ropes. All the amputees fall
through the air, shrilling and pulling at their hair. Then the
techies grab onto the ropes. The amputees stop dead-air and BOUNCY
BOUNCE like rag dolls – their limps flopping here and there.
They make strange drowning sounds.

Mr.
Snake gives the techies the signal (he brings his hands up and
masturbates his neck) and they yank on the rubber ropes over and
over. The amputees bounce in the air, some touching the bed, some
twirling around & around like a merry-go-round.

They
appear to be laughing.

Mr.
Snake points to the black couple in a violent manner: With tiny jabs,
his face torn, eyes huge with impatience. He shoves his hands into
his mouth, happy.

The
actors nod and clap.

Mr.
Snake shakes his head.

“Sex
her!”

He
throws money at them: “A total of $20,” says an idiot
savant, standing next to me. “In coins.”

Mr.
Snake points at all the shiny coins.

“That’s
your motivation,
fool!
”

The
actors kiss each other in a sloppy way – eyes crazy and staring
at the bouncing feet and arms around them. They are kicked and
slapped in the head, accidentally, yet keep acting. Mr. Snake nods in
approval.

“They
are professional.”

An
unidentified man behind a hanging blanket pulls on a large lever…and
fantastic flowers fall all around the scene.

I’m
happy with my color balance: Everything that’s red –
including the flowers – is bright and radiant.

The
same shadow-figure behind the blanket pulls down on a thick rope
above his head. Glorious God music plays from some mysterious place:
A large chorus full of faith and energy.

“Lalalala!
Hallelujah! Amen!”

There
are gay trumpets and deafening drums and mean saxophones.

“Rhythm
sex!” says the director to the actors.

The
shadow behind the blanket wall now picks up a microphone and clears
his throat through the annoying feedback. He says, defiantly:

“All
hail Jay-zus! Allow his mighty ways to cut through your soul like the
Flaming Sword of all that is Good and Holy!”

The
actors on the bed make fast love – both making fake sounds of
intense pleasure & pain. There is also some fake screaming. In a
Hallmark moment, the male actor holds the female in his arms and
smiles and gently massages his hand into her vagina, going all the
way up to his elbow. He says, “I can feel intestine.” The
female repays him by widening his penis slit with pliers and pushing
a long hairpin into his hard shaft.

She
says to him, “They do this in the Middle East.”

“Oh
come now, that’s so wonderful.”

She
masturbates him while the preacher preaches.

“Ye
who urinates in the house of God shall have the Satan Penis nibbled
off with many rabbit and rabid bites; and the bits shall be
distributed amongst the kings and queens of the world and outer
planets and they must all swallow the Penis bits while crying for
they must be ashamed – it is a must! For the Lord our God
enjoys to watch all weep and ask for his mercy for he is not only a
sadist but he is also insecure. Woe woe woe his sad sad ways. LOL.
Amen…and Awomen. The end.”