Monday, December 6, 2010

233 - Let there be LIGHTER

Grabbing the SODA CORPORATION HAND TRUCK for defense, you THRILLER DANCE your way over to the ZOMBIE BUTLER to ask for a LIGHT for your HYPOTHETICAL CIGARETTE.

You then realize that was the BEST SENTENCE EVER.

RHYS: Howdy, partner. Say, y'all wouldn't hap' ta have a flame-hocker to sizzle my t'bacca roll, would ya, cuz?
ZB: ...brians...?

The ZOMBIE BUTLER (who you suddenly realize is a wine steward and thus a ZOMMELIER, not a ZOMBIE BUTLER) produces a small LIGHTER from one of his POCKETS and lights it up, expecting you to produce a... T'BACCA ROLL.

You do not oblige.

You quickly snatch the LIGHTER and hurl it through the AIR, somehow keeping it lit despite its SAFETY FEATURES. You are not at all conscious of appropriate FIRE SAFETY! You are QUITE RECKLESS! You and the ZOMBIE BUTLER (sorry, ZOMMELIER) watch it slowly arc toward the CHANDELIER....

One of the CHANDELIER'S CANDLES lights up and the room becomes much easier to investigate, but it will take until the beginning of the next turn to look around.

The ZOMBIE BUTLER is not amused*.


*If asked, the Zombie Butler will now only supply Rhys with the lowest class of wine from his extensive wine collection, a frankly disgusting Rosé from a very bad year. He will not offer anything better, much less his prized Red Brain Wine. No. He'll keep that for himself. He gets so lonely in the Haunted House. So very lonely. Sometimes he takes a sip after letting a small glass breathe, making sure the bottle is sealed very tight. He doesn't want to waste it, even though he knows no one else would want Brain Wine. No one else would understand. But he still feels guilty, even after all these years.

He had a dog once. A real dog, not a zombie dog. It's name was Brian. He loved Brian. Then Brian died one day. The Zombie Butler ate some of his brain, but he felt bad about it and left half-way through the meal. He still thinks about Brian sometimes. When it's dark. When he's alone. When he's sipping more Red Brain Wine and realizing he's finished the bottle, another bottle, yet again, way down in the cellar where no one ever visited, where no one ever heard him. He was silent, unable to cry.


Anonymous said...

Look around in the revealed light.

also contemplate a long lost epitaph to poor brian the dog. maybe we can find the teddy brian somewhere...

CageyJay said...

Finding a Teddy Brian does seem like a good thing to put on our to-do list. That would go a long way toward maintaining the neutrality for Rhys' neutral awesomeness, after all the havoc of the helicopter and after guile attacking unsuspecting Confederbots. Do Teddies stand up to the rigors of postage? Is there even a postal system still?

Meanwhile, that sounds like a hint. Since we have (once again) turned the SAUCY LITERATURE into an empty pocket, let's ask for that truly horrendous Rose. Maybe Cad could use it, or maybe we'll need a poison or housewarming gift in the near future.