My friends decided that it has been far too long since I have been on a date, and decided to set me up with a friend of theirs, even against all my objections. I don’t see what the big deal is, though; as if not having a date in the last five years means that I am a pathetic loser who can't get a date, or something.
Yeah... well, fuck them.. because it was a shitty date.
Julie. Her name was Julie, and I called her last Thursday to set up the date, after being given her number by my friends. The phone conversation was awkward and seemed to go on for ages, but that is a fairly normal phone conversation for me.
We decided to meet at Ruby Tequila’s at seven p.m. for the date. I would know her because she would be wearing red socks. This is looking exciting already, isn't it? A horrible restaurant that is so loud when you walk in you suddenly become very sleepy, even if you were doing cart-wheels in the parking lot. So there is no possibility of having a decent conversation. And red socks? Red socks! Who in their right mind wears red socks?
For some unknown reason I actually dressed half-way decent for the date, and showed up a few minutes early. When I walked in she was already standing at the bar, waiting. At least, I assumed it was her, because she was wearing red socks. To tell you the truth, though, she looked pretty cute in her red socks. It worked for her. We introduced ourselves, and had an awkwardly silent moment before we were seated.
After we sat down, however, things really picked up. She had just graduated from the University of Texas as a literature and cultural studies double major. That is what I would call impressive. She told me that she wanted to be a writer and she even told me about some ideas that she had. And it was fascinating.
I am not often fascinated by a girl; especially not in this simple little town. I asked her why the hell she was living in this hamlet, of all places. She said that she had thrown a bunch of city names in a hat and had pulled our little burg out of the hat; naturally I asked why we were in the hat to begin with. She said that she wanted to experience different places, and different lifestyles. I am not kidding when I say that she was fascinating.
As cliché as it is to say, I think we really hit it off. I would have gone out on a second date with her, no question.
I had to excuse myself to go to the restroom towards the end of the meal. As I was coming out of the restroom there was a lot of commotion going on in the dinning room. More than just the deafening sounds of people talking to each other.
I know you aren't going to believe this, but I swear what I am about to tell you is the absolute truth...
Zombies. No joke. Somehow -- some way -- beyond my comprehension, zombies had attacked the restaurant. as I came out I saw the undead feeding upon people I had just moments ago been eating next to. Julie saw me and started to run towards me, but it wasn't easy. I don't know how many zombies initially invaded the restaurant, but they had multiplied. Many of our fellow patrons were now among the ranks of the undead. As she fought her way toward me, I grabbed a chair and started to fight my way toward her. it was only a distance of about 20 feet or so, but it felt like it took days. As I got to her, as I grabbed her hand and was about to turn around to escape, it happened. A zombie turned from the corpse it was feeding on, and dove toward Julie. He grabbed her from behind and bit her on the shoulder.
No, that's the nice way of putting it. He bit off a piece of her shoulder, as I stood there with her hand in mine. I knew it wouldn't be long before she passed and became one of them. I looked at her, and with fear and terror in her eyes, I bludgeoned her to death, and then to death again with the chair I was still holding in my other hand. When I got done, I was covered in her blood, running down my legs and staining my socks.
If that were not enough to completely fuck you up in one night, I had to now face a restaurant full of the undead; they could not be allowed to spread beyond this place (though I don't know how they got here to begin with).
I started with the asshole who took a chunk out of her shoulder, and one by one I beat every non-living being in that restaurant until they stopped moving.
Next time you are feeling sorry for your lonely friend, just see if he wants to go to a movie. Thanks for the thought, though...