Anywhere But Here!… Please?

Part One Of The ‘Saving Entertainment’ Chronicles

-‘Dawn Of The Dead’ -

Chapter One

Every You, Every Me

-Rosalie POV.-

“Like most memorable story’s, this one begins with ‘Once upon a time…

In a land, far far away from civilization. A land known as ‘Montana’- there were two Princesses. One of light and goodness, and one darkness and wickedness.

The Princess of light, known well for her gentleness and beauty, spent her days spreading happiness and joy throughout the magical land of Montana.-”

“What a load of Crap.”

“The evil Princess, only spread immorality and discord.”

“Huh?.”

“While the good Princess was known as Rosalie-”

“More like Rosa-filthy-liar.”

“The repugnant, sinister Princess was only known as ‘The malicious and somewhat smelly one‘, for her real name was too grotesque to the ears for anyone to have the audacity to speak it.”

“Nice, real nice.”

“And if anyone were to speak the wicked Princess’ true name, the world would surely plunge into darkness and decay.”

“Oh no! Not ‘darkness’! Not ‘decay’!”

“The evil Princess was truly so horrid--”

“Okay, that’s it. Rosalie- step away from the Word Processor.”

“The gentle kind Princess--”

“Just got shoved out of the way by her magnificence, Empress Be’.”

“Princess.”

“Previously Princess, Now Empress- the ‘evil’ one.”

“And smelly.”

“…’Anyways’. Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain. Or to Rosalie.”

“This isn’t Oz.”

“Whatever! Just be quiet, I’m trying to explain something to these people. Okay, so you may be asking ‘How do I tell when its Rosalie, or Be writing. If you haven’t figured it out by now, the answer is simple. Rosalie’s writing will always be in italic, and my own in regular ol’ easy to read fonty-ness.”

“After disputing, debating, and discussing it- we’ve decided unanimously that this is the most logical way to tell you our tale.”

“It’s super easy to write this way.”

“And consequently the most uncomplicated form of our narrative to read.”

“So we ‘are’ thinking of you, dear reader while we write this.”

“The last thing we need is to be confused, and have our readers-”

“Going WTF?”

“Exactly.”

“But, Rosalie‘s a liar.“

“I am not!“

“Our story doesn’t begin with ‘Once upon a time…’In fact it doesn’t go anywhere near ‘Once upon a time..’ and I’m the farthest thing from a Princess on this planet.“

“Oh, yea I guess I did lie a bit... at the beginning. But it was for story telling purposes.“

“Well this isn’t a story as much as it is- a united memoir?“

“Chronicle, try that.”

“Chronicle, that sounds better. Though there will be no talking lions in this chronicle…”

“Or articulate little British children.”

“Jesus, I am so over those movies.”

“Tell me about it.”

“If I see one more film where British children are introduced into a world of wonder and imagination I’ll poop a pineapple.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing.”

“….”

“What!?”

“Nothing, so where are we starting this?”

“I guess we’ll start with what caused all of this- a movie.”

“A movie which had amazing potential, but quickly turned into a horrible bowl movement of a film.”

“Harsh. Rosie”

“The film is harsh. As a George Romero fan I was, needles to say very frustrated with this movie. If you have seen it, you too probably felt the same frustration. Everyone died! Everyone who should have lived, every single one of the characters I liked.

It wasn’t right, sure there is supposed to be death and dismemberment in zombie movies. But this was not fair- the characters went from being rational, complex people to a bunch of one dimensional idiotic self-sacrificing quitters-”

“Nothing Ro here hates more than quitter. Except maybe Mexicans.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“What?”

“Why would you go say something like that to them?”

“It was funny.”

“No, it was racist.”

“You’re black, you’re allowed to be racist.”

“Oh really?”

“Yea, don’t you pay attention to the media? I’m white so I can’t be racist, you’re black so you can be. You can hate on Whitey and Juan and Wang. Heh, I said ‘Wang’.”

“I cannot believe I am your friend. All racism is wrong you tard.”

“Oh Jesus Christ on a motorboat, fine I am the white devil, all Asians don’t cost car accidents and Canadians don’t steal. I don’t care! Lets just get on with the story before you get all preachy and I get constipated from it. “

“Fine. I’ll just begin where it began then…

In the land far far away, (Montanta) Two girls stood on the sidewalk. They did not know it but they were about to make a decision that would change their lives forever.

“I say we don’t go in.” ‘Be’ told me, staring at the old, creaky, creepy, tilted pawn shop in front of us.

“Coward.” I said tauntingly to my friend, walking towards the store. I stopped when I saw however that Be was not moving.

“You, my friend, are a victim of disorganized thinking.“ Be stated grandly, waving her arms about “You are under the unfortunate impression that just because your afraid- you have no courage; you're confusing courage with wisdom.”

I pondered this a moment. Rarely did she articulate things that well. Then I realized it was a line from one of her favorite movies. ‘The Wizard Of Oz’. Typical Be’,

“What is your obsession with that movie?” I demanded.

“It’s a residual fixation from my traumatic childhood.” She replied quickly, putting her hands in her pockets and sticking her chin out. This was something she always did after saying something she didn’t fully understand.

“Nothing traumatic ever happened to you.” I told her flatly. “And stop using words you don’t understand.”

“Fuck you. Sixth birthday party, clown.” She snapped.

“Oh.” I cringed.

For Be’s sixth birthday party her mother had hired a clown. Which would upset most children, but at the time Be loved clowns. She had balloon and clown stickers pasted all over her bedroom. She had drawn a circus tent on her wall in bright red crayon. Her sheets and bedspread had clown shoes on them. The girl even had Ronald McDonald underpants. Unfortunately the clown her mother had hired was equally as fond of dropping acid as Be was of him and his race. Most of everyone knew something was wrong when he began making weird dick shaped balloon animals. Be and I didn’t know any better until we watched him dry humping her dad’s ten year old rottweiler for twenty minutes behind the garage. Please take note that this was before the trip turned bad. The clown decided his cloths were trying to eat him and started stripping. Be’s father tackled him shortly after and tried to kill him for revealing his clowny dick to a bunch of six year olds. The police were called, both her father and the clown were taken away by the police. She spent the night at my house, where my mother took away our balloon animals.

“Most fucked up day, ever.’ Be told me.

“Yea.” I agreed. “My birthday that year was a lot of fun though.”

My dad bought me a pony-

“You’re high if you think I am going in that store.” She snapped.

It didn’t seem that bad. I couldn’t shake the feeling that some her was instincts were accurate and we shouldn’t go in there.

Forcing myself to turn and look at the small building in front of my. I searched for anything that would serve as a warning bell. An orange tag, a dismembered body, crazy cannibalistic inbreeds. I saw nothing. Only some peeling brown paint, filthy windows, and a flickering red neon sign in the window which read ‘Pawn Shop’.

Be was of course only being pusillanimous from lack of dedication and far too many horror movies. Positive in my assessment that my friend only needed a metaphorical ‘shove’ I smirked and looked back at her.

“Sissy, girl.” I drawled.

‘Her eyes darted towards me, she scowled. I’d successfully wounded her pride and now-

“Yellow tellatubby!” She shouted and I jumped, probably looking much like a cat that had just been thrown into a bath tub full of cold water.

“That wasn’t funny!” I snapped, truly angry. Not to mention ashamed at my heart would palpate and my skin would grow cold just thinking of one of those bouncy little vermin’s.

‘Be’ continued to laugh.

I briefly contemplated slapping her to make her stop, but she ceased cackling on her own before I had the chance to.

“Lets just go in and replace the remote.” I mumbled.

“Alright, alright. This place, freaks me out though by the way.” Be said conversationally.

Be ignored the nagging in the pit of her stomach and I ignored the nagging of her- we entered the shop, the bell overhead rang melodically.

As soon as we’d stepped foot into the shop, I saw something kinda gross.

“Is that a stuffed chicken?” I asked, feeling myself blanch as I looked above the door-where sure enough a stuffed chicken with bells on its feet hung.

“You wanted to come in here.” ‘Be’ stated and moved forward. “Lets just see if they have a remote we can--”

“REMOTE CONTROL!” Someone screamed from the right making both of us jump in surprise. “Remote control?” A man asked, stepping foreword out of the shadows and shaking a silver remote in his hand.

It gleamed in the light dangerously. Uncomfortable as it made me then, as well as absurd it may seem to you now, the remote had a tense air about it. Like a sharpened knife or a loaded gun.

I didn’t take comfort in the fact a complete stranger was the one holding it.

As his face emerged from the shadows of the pawn shop Be and I could see that he had a long salt and pepper beard and skin dark and scarred like roughened leather. Despite his gruff appearance, I had the feeling he was much older than he looked.

He took another step, emerging himself completely from the darkness. A soft scraping accompanied his movements.

“Nick Nolte mugshot much?” Be snickered next to me.

My line of vision drifted down and I saw he had a peg leg. Not a normal platic prosthetic, but an actual wooden peg leg.

Without necessarily intending to, I felt myself recoil behind Be. Who stood looking absolutely unafraid of the man, and instead seeming genuinely interested in his peculiar appearance.

“Hello.“ The man said calmly, his voice a mixture of smoke and gravel as he surveyed us with one sharp green eye. His other, clouded over and scarred only seemed to mimic his good eyes movements. It was disturbing watching his bad eye pretend it could see us as well as the other.

“Uh, hi.” I stuttered from behind Be

“Sup?” Be asked the man casually.

He grinned, and I had the impression Be’ (quite possible both she and I) entertained him somehow.

“You young ladies- are looking for a remote control?” He questioned, lifting the smooth silver remote in his hand and waving it ever so slightly. He was almost taunting us with it.

“Yea.” Be said. “Is that for sale?”

“Take it.” He said softly, holding the remote out to us.

“How much is it?” I questioned, poking my head over Be’s shoulder in interest.

“Free.” he stated, tipping it further towards Be’s grasp.

“Does it work?” Be asked skeptically. He tone revealing her true words. ‘Crap is crap, free or no’.

The man barred his teeth in a grin. “On any VHS or DVD player.”

“In that case.” Be mumbled, taking the remote, condemning us both in one fluid movement. She saluted him with it. “Thanks.”

He only half smiled at us, a glint of sorrow in his eyes before walking back into the obscure blackness of the pawn shop.

“That was so weird.” I muttered.

She spun on me and grinned. “Oh, lets go into the creepy pawn shop.” Be mocked, poking at my nose with the remote.

“Get out of my face with that.” I warned, slapping her hand away.

“You know what.” Be said. “Leaving you here with crazy” She spun her index finger near her left temple.

“What are you ta-”

Be ran from the shop as fast as her legs could take her. Leaving me behind.

“Bitch.“ I snapped, then looked around the musty pawn shop. Being there alone was all the encouragement I needed to haul out of there as quickly as humanly possible.

And we didn’t stop running until we were through the front door of my home, smack dab in the middle of safe secure suburbia. I snapped the dead bolt, locking the door anyways.

I then turned on my friend who stood behind me, catching her breath. I slipped off my shoes, something my mother had made a household rule, no shoes through the house. Be had already removed hers, she was a bitch but in others homes she would abide by the law of the house.

I stormed towards her and smacked her on the arm in annoyance.

“You left me there!”

“Only for a second.” She said casually, waving it off.

“I could have been killed by that psycho, he could have come back with a chainsaw.”

“Yea, but he didn’t.” Be told me, shrugging off her bright green backpack and dropping it on the floor. She then walked right into my kitchen, clearly unconcerned by my anger.

“What if he had?” I pressed, following her.

“Then I would have made a blood oath, and um- avenged you all hardcore like ‘Spawn’ or something.” She told me, leaning against the counter.

“You wouldn’t be like spawn.” I stated, going to the fridge and pulling out two cans of coke.

“I know I’m not a big scary black man, but I can deal out the retribution.” Replied, holding up her hand so I could throw one two her.

“Yes, but you couldn’t deal with scurby John Leguazamo in a clown costume.” I took the opportune moment to through the coke to her as I said the word clown, and she failed to catch it. The cola fell to the floor with a loud thud.

“Nice catch.”

“You threw it wrong.” She bitched. “I’m hungry.”

“I think there’s some leftover lasagna in the fridge.” I told her.

“Yes, I think we should order pizza.” Be said happily. “Oh that’s so sweet of you to offer to pay.”

“You bunghole, I never said-“

“Yes, of course I will get hotwings!” She exclaimed, bouncing towards the phone.

“Why should I buy you food?” I questioned, lifting an eyebrow.

“Us, us food. “ She corrected. “One five one seven, right?” She asked, dialing.

“Be-“

“Quit bitching, open the front part of my backpack.” She instructed. “Hi, yes I’d like to place an order for delivery, yes that is the address.”

As she placed an order for a large cheese pizza, and a large order of hotwings I threw her hideous old backpack onto the counter top. When I unzipped the front compartment and reached into it I found the remote control we had received, and a zip log baggie half filled with a green herb of some sort.

Oh. My. God. She had pot with her! She brought marijuana into my house!

I grinned and did a small happy dance, waving my arms about.

Be laughed and hung up the phone.

“Where did you get this?” I demanded, hopping up and down.

“My little brother.”

“Where did your little brother get weed?”

“He claimed it was for medicinal purposes.” Be informed me, rolling her eyes.

She walked over to me and snatched the baggie from my grasp.

“This is why you are buying us food.” She stated, putting the baggie back into her backpack. Be pulled out the remote before zipping her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

I pulled the remote from her hand the way she pulled the pot from mine and headed downstairs. This was our thing, we would come to my house and we would go downstairs to the media room and watch our favorite horror movies. This week I’d been nagging her to watch Dawn of The Dead with me, a fact that after today she would never allow me to forget.

Be followed and threw her backpack onto the floor in front of the flat screen.

“It won’t work.” ‘Be’ stated darkly before taking her pants off.

“It will.” I sang defiantly and then snapped in absolute frustration. “God, do you always have to do that?”

“Won’t.” Be looked confused as she threw her Jeans on the basement floor beside her backpack “Do what?”

“The pants thing.”

“Hey.” She said defensively. “It’s what I do. I come to your house, take my pants off and watch movies.”

“Why do you have to take your pants off though?” I berated. “Remember that time my mom came down here and saw you and she thought we were a lesbians for like a week.”

That was a traumatizing week for all involved, I assure you dear reader.

“Doesn’t she still think I’m a lesbian?”

“No, she knows your crazy now.”

“Bite me.” Be grumbled.

“Trailer trash.” I taunted.

“Daddy’s whore.”

“..” I couldn’t think of anything. “Damn it!”

Be grinned at her friend. “That’s right, I win!”

“The remote will work.” I snapped, forcing my way into an argument I knew I could win.

“Do you remember how we got it?” ‘Be’ asked sweetly, looking towards the shiny silver remote I held in my grasp.

I was silent a moment going through what had happened in the pawn shop not a half hour a go before grumbling my response. “Just put in the goddamn movie.”

Be gave me a look.

I sighed. “Please?”

“That’s what I thought.” Be mumbled, placing the ‘Dawn Of The Dead’ DVD into my DVD player. We’ve watched it way to many times- way more than any Romero lover would have. But it was zombies- even if it wasn’t great ones, even if the movie went down a steep sad hill forty minutes in, it was still zombies!! And zombies are… well they're zombies, and Be’ and I loved them then. Despite the necrosis and rotting, we found them compelling past anything else.

With the exception of werewolves.

“Why don’t we ever do this at your house?” I questioned, taking off my socks and sitting on the couch.

Be was silent a moment and seemed to be in deep concentration. “Oh!” she exclaimed as though just recalling something. “Because I live in hell, in a trailer?” She said with false enthusiasm. “And you have a very lovely home in suburbia- not on wheels- with a basement.” She complimented sweetly, taking a drink of her most likely, flat coke a cola.

I nodded and smiled “Knew there was a reason.” With that she rolled over onto her stomach and handed the remote to Be who sat on the floor, her back leaning against the sofa.

Be took the remote, which oddly enough did work on both the television and the DVD player. She clicked through the menu and played the movie. Both of us liked the opening credits of this one- which was rare considering most of the time we chose to skip the opening credits.

We both flinched as we watched Anna crash her car into the tree.

Then the credits began.

“What a bad driver.” Be commented.

“Yea, whole forest and she hit’s a big tree like that.” I critiqued.

“We would have hit the bigger one in the back.” Be said, pointing at the screen.

“Definitely.”

“Where are your parents anyways?” Be asked out of the blue, only half paying attention to the opening credits.

“Second honey moon.” I said, grimacing. Knowing the response I was about to receive.

“OO, your parents are probably having sexual intercourse right now!”

“Shut up!”

“Tapping the ass!” Be sung, gyrating her hips a little.

“That’s so friggin disgusting.” I grumbled

“Did you just say friggin?”

There was a ringing that echoed through the house.

“Pizza!! Yay!!” Be cried. She snatched her backpack and pulled it into her lap. I’m positive her intention was to fetch the pot and then craft a home made bong from her coke can.

“Pause it.” I demanded. Rolling off the couch.

I stood and Be went to pause it. She hit the button and instantly after I felt my skin take over a rubbery sensation. The rubber which was once my flesh got heavy, so heavy I could hardly move.

“Be’?“ I called.

But there was a flash, and a deafening whoosh which ripped whatever words she’d been forcing out from her. I remember falling.

Author Note: Like's it? Hate's it? Need's it to be revised? Let me know.