Free Greatest Zombie Movie Ever by Jeff Strand Page A

for most consecutive words spoken to Alicia in person. If they spoke any longer, he’d have said so many words to her that he couldn’t even keep an accurate count of them. And he hadn’t passed out! Last week he never would have believed that he could carry on a conversation with Alicia and not at least get a little dizzy.
    â€œMay I make a request about my character?”
    â€œSure, anything.”
    â€œCan she have purple hair?”
    â€œOh yeah, absolutely. That’s how I pictured her anyway.”
    â€œAnd what about a Mohawk?”
    â€œA Mohawk?”
    Alicia ran her fingers through her long blond hair. “I’ve always wanted a purple Mohawk, but my mom won’t let me get one. If it’s required for the part though, she’ll have to let me do it.”
    â€œWell, I mean, I wouldn’t make you get a Mohawk just for the movie—”
    â€œPut it in the script so I can show her. And make sure there are some parts where the other characters talk about it. She needs to see that it’s essential to the role. Can you do that for me?”
    â€œYeah, if that’s what you really want. I’ll make it a crucial plot element.”
    â€œWhile you’re at it, could you put in that her nose and eyebrow are pierced?”
    â€œI guess I could do that too.”
    â€œThanks!”
    â€œBut you can do fake piercings.”
    â€œThat’s no good. Put in a scene where somebody tugs on them.”
    â€œWon’t that hurt?”
    â€œNot a scene where somebody tugs on them hard . Just enough so my mom can see that we can’t fake it.”
    â€œI’m not sure your mom will buy that,” said Justin. “I don’t think a director would ask an actress to really pierce her nose. If he did, she’d have a hole in her nose, and her next role could be, you know, a nun or something.”
    â€œMy mom doesn’t know how movies work. I really want to get my nose and eyebrow pierced. Don’t ruin this for me.”
    â€œI won’t. I’ll make sure the movie can’t get done without the piercings.”
    â€œThank you!”
    â€œI’ll have the script for you tomorrow.”
    â€œCan’t wait!”

9
    When Justin got home, he knew there was no way he could get through the evening without a nap. So he went upstairs, took off his left shoe, decided that his right shoe was fine where it was, and flopped down on his bed. Fourteen and three-quarters of a second later, he was asleep.
    A zombie with a tire iron lodged in its skull stood next to his bed, staring at him. But Justin was dreaming, so that was okay.
    â€œG’day,” said the zombie, speaking in an Australian accent. “I’m your subconscious mind. While you lie ’ere, sleepin’ peacefully, I’m gonna finish writin’ your script for ya, mate.”
    â€œReally?” asked Justin. “Gee whiz! That would be swell!”
    The zombie pulled a typewriter out of its ear and began to quickly tap on the keys. “Writing, writing, writing. Oh, that was a good part. Writing, writing, writing.”
    â€œI love you, Mr. Zombie Personification of My Subconscious Mind!”
    â€œPsych!” The typewriter disappeared into a cloud of pink glitter. “Write your own script! Don’t make your brain do all the work!”
    A dozen zombie arms burst through Justin’s mattress. They grabbed him by the hands, feet, head, and tailbone and dragged him down into the darkness.
    Good thing this is a dream , thought Justin. It would be really unpleasant to be dragged down into a dark, zombie-filled pit if it weren’t part of a dream.
    There wasn’t a lot of room, what with all of the zombies squeezed down there. The pit underneath his bed had been designed to hold maybe twenty zombies, twenty-two at the most, but there were at least thirty down here, so it was a tight fit. Justin couldn’t remember ever having had