Monday, July 28, 2008

Night of the Living Hipsters, Part II

“I’m Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator, presidential candidate. I’m here to rescue you.” I reached my hand towards the quartet. “Come with me if you want to live.”

“Wait, what did you just say?” asked Officer Reed.

“I said I’m here to rescue you,” I said.

“No no, that last part, what was that?” the policeman pressed.

“Uh, you mean come with me if you want to live?” I asked.

“Yeah, where’d you get that from?” Reed questioned me.

“That sounds like from a movie or something,” Dr. Porter added.

“Yeah, I’m sure I heard that from a movie as well,” Eve nodded.

“Well sure it might be from a movie or something,” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just saying that I’m here and I’m going to get you out of the city.”

“Just her?” Jim Daniels threw his thumb towards Eve. “How come you’re just saving the pretty lady?”

“No, I’m here to rescue all of you,” I insisted.

“Well you looked right at her when you said you,” he groused.

“Well I mean you plural,” I replied. “I’m not going to say ‘y’all’ or something. I guess I could have said youse guys, but I stand on the fact that I’m here to rescue all four of you. There’s just four of you, right? Is there anyone else still in there?”

“No, it’s just us four,” Dr. Porter replied.

“OK, good,” I nodded. “Let’s get going then.”

“So you said you were an intergalactic gladiator, does that mean you have a rocket ship or something?” Officer Reed asked.

“Well I do, but I don’t have it here right now,” I answered.

“What kind of an intergalactic gladiator doesn’t have his own rocket ship?” the policeman laughed condescendingly.

“I said that I do have one only it’s just not here,” I replied. “The Danger Sled’s getting her three thousand light year tune up.”

“Getting a what?” Eve asked.

“A three thousand light year tune up,” I repeated. “You wouldn’t believe the wear and tear that ship gets.”

“Well how are we going to get out of here?” Dr. Porter asked.

“My car’s right over there,” Jim pointed. “Let’s make a break for it.”

“What, that old thing?” Dr. Porter grimaced at the vehicle sitting in the lot across the street.

“Hey, that’s some classic muscle right there,” Jim answered with a touch of pride. “You want to make a break for it in a Prius or something?”

“No, that’s fine, I guess,” Porter replied.

“We better move it, double time,” Officer Reed exhaled.

The five of us started running towards the car; I took up the read to guard our movement. Halfway across the street, Jim lurched awkwardly and clutched his knee. He continued to run to the car though he clearly was in pain. Grimacing and cursing under his breath, he reached into his pocket for his keys.

“Where are the keys?” Eve cried desperately.

“I got ‘em,” Jim growled.

“You didn’t have them ready?” Dr. Porter threw her hands up.

“I got ‘em,” Jim repeated as he rifled through his pocket.

“Latte…” a voice mumbled from someplace near. “…Need latte…”

“…Arctic Monkeys…” another mumbled.

“They’re here!” Officer Reed shouted.

Out of the darkness, more of the undead hipsters emerged.

“Everyone, in the car!” I yelled as I leapt onto the hood.

“Oh wow, that’s cool,” a shambling hipster mumbled sarcastically. “I wish I could jump on a car like that.”

“Yeah, I’m going to post a message about it on the avclub board,” another mumbled. “Lame-o dillweed pwnes car hood.”

“Hey the Dukes of Hazzard called, they want their lame bit back,” a third said.

“You’re referencing the Dukes of Hazzard? Weak.” The first said as he shambled towards us.

“What-ever,” the third replied.

“Stay back!” I warned. I fired a shot from Betsy over their heads.

“A laser gun?” the second one looked blankly. “That was kind of cool.”

“Shut up,” said the first.

“Well it was,” the second responded.

“Don’t make me do this,” I warned as more hipsters trudged out of the darknes. “I don’t want to kill you.”

“They’re not alive anymore!” Dr. Porter shouted while leaning out the window of the car.

“They’re not?” I called back.

“I’m sure of it,” she replied. “I looked at the test results at the clinic!”

After a moment’s consideration, I fired at the lead hipster. He clutched where I shot him and howled, but he didn’t go down.

“You’re gonna have to aim for the head!” Jim Daniels shouted from the driver’s seat.

I took aim and shot the same scenester in the head. The creature clasped the wound with its rakish claws then fell flat to the ground.

“Punch it!” I yelled.

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Jim jammed the car into reverse. I almost tumbled off, but I clasped onto the window frame for dear life. The car spun around, batting the undead to the left and right, then Jim punched it into drive and peeled off down the street.


Sylar said...

OMG I was biting my nails the whole time!

mwb said...

I believe the correct term is hip-americans.

Nepharia said...

Hey, I think I have some of those hipsters working in my office.

Vegeta said...

that was ... disturbing

The Hulk said...

good thing i haven't seen any of thoose.

Dr. Zaius said...

I am glad that he found his keys! But I am not sure that I understand how the Arctic Monkeys fit into to the whole story... Are they like one ofr those new-fangled rock groups or something?

Eye Candy said...

~Salutations Intergalactic Gladiator~

The question provoked is will the car now run out of fuel? Would the Prius respond accordingly or with superiority?

I have to come back to see if they run out of fuel!!

You know I don’t think we have met > But of course I don’t typically travel in military type circles.

Professor Xavier said...

Nobody can jump a car hood like Jon can.

Jean-Luc Picard said...

You'd haver all got out ages ago if it wasn't for the chit-chat.