Free Greatest Zombie Movie Ever by Jeff Strand Page B

less elbow room.
    â€œHey, guys, we need to make space,” said Justin.
    â€œThere’s space in our stomachs!” said one of the zombies.
    Justin felt kind of silly. He should have known that suggesting that they needed to make space would quickly lead to one of the zombies mentioning that there was available space in their tummies. The next part was not going to be fun.
    â€œNom nom nom!” said the zombies.
    Justin woke up.
    Or had he?
    Well, he wasn’t in a zombie pit being devoured, so presumably he’d woken up. He sat up, feeling surprisingly refreshed considering that he’d only been asleep for a couple of minutes.
    He sat at his desk, feeling strangely inspired, and began to type.
    And he didn’t stop until the first third of the script was complete.
    (If you didn’t count restroom breaks, dinner, a couple of mandatory household chores, homework, a few text message exchanges with Gabe and Bobby, a bit of TV watching downstairs so that his parents didn’t feel abandoned, a cursory brushing of his teeth, and two more naps.)
    Still, before his alarm clock made its horrific bleating sound to let him know that it was time to get ready for school, he was done!
    He was so happy that he wanted to dance. So he did.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” asked Mom, peering suspiciously into his bedroom.
    â€œDancing with joy.”
    â€œThat doesn’t look like any dancing I’ve ever seen. It’s more like staggering.”
    â€œI haven’t slept much.”
    When he met Gabe outside, Gabe said that he, too, had finished his third of the screenplay. “It was weird,” said Gabe. “I had this dream where an Australian zombie said that he’d finish writing it for me.”
    Justin gaped at him. “Seriously?”
    â€œNo. You texted me about your dream in the middle of the night.”
    â€œOh, that’s right.”
    When they met him in front of the school, Bobby revealed that he had also finished his portion. “It wasn’t easy,” said Bobby. “There were times, especially 4:13 a.m., that I wanted to give up. But I didn’t. I just took a deep breath, focused, and stuck my tongue in the connector of a nine-volt battery to give me the jolt I needed to keep going.”
    â€œI can’t believe it,” said Justin. “We’ve got ninety-seven pages here! We decided to make a feature film on Saturday night, and on Tuesday morning, we’ve got a completed screenplay! We’re geniuses!”
    â€¢ • •
    â€œWe’re idiots,” said Justin.
    They sat in the lunchroom, reading through their script. The biggest problem with the script was that it was terrible. Unfortunately that was only one problem of many. It was also, in Gabe’s words, “One hundred percent unfilmable on our budget.”
    â€œNot a hundred percent,” Justin insisted.
    â€œFine. I was exaggerating. But it’s close.”
    â€œIf you’re going to be an effective producer, you can’t exaggerate. You have to stick to facts. If you gave inaccurate numbers on the set, a stunt could go wrong, and somebody could die.”
    â€œThen I won’t give a percentage. It’s completely unfilmable. There. Happy?”
    â€œWhy is it unfilmable?”
    â€œBecause it would cost trillions of dollars to make!”
    â€œDidn’t we just have a discussion about exaggerating?”
    â€œI could open up this script and point to any random part, and there’s going to be something that’s too expensive for us to do.” Gabe pulled a page out of the middle of the pile, closed his eyes, and then touched it with his index finger. He opened his eyes again. “Oh, look. I just touched a part where a burning Jeep drives off the top of a fast-food restaurant! How are we going to do that, Justin? Do you have a Jeep in your garage that we can set on fire? Do you know any fast-food restaurants that will be