Out of the Red and Into the Black
It’s a fact that reunions can sometimes be awkward, especially when your last contact was a mass e-mail saying “Bye Losers.” This was certainly the case for Ben Parazynski, as he gazed across the room at his old co-workers attending the JREZHS Grand Re-Opening Gala. Jim Rage had not yet shown up, but it was customary for him to be fashionably late, and sometimes fashionably absent. Baxter Black stood by the chip and dip table, goading Justin Cendiary to punch him in an attempt demonstrate the attack-absorbing qualities of the forehead. His words went unheard, as Cendiary was busy dripping the wax of the fiesta-candles onto his outstretched hand, his eyes quivering with each molten droplet. Meanwhile, Chico “the Mad Hatter” Sauvé had ducked into the coat-room and was in the middle of a heated conversation with his landlord. It was difficult to hear over the sounds of the crowd and the all-Human League party mix, but the problem seemed to revolve around “spider nests.”
As Ben Parazynski went to get another can of Lemon Super Chill, he walked straight into Drew Parazynski (no relation). The latter Parazynski had recently been released from prison and was far too eager to show off his bicep tattoo. It depicted a flaming skull with a snake slithering out of one eye-socket. Parazynski hadn’t showered in a while out of fear of the tattoo getting wet and peeling off. The two exchanged greetings and moved on, the “Tough Noun” attempting to sell a stolen DVD player to Peter Fury. While fishing his beverage from the cooler, the other Parazynski happened to glance out the window and see Frank Gritt out in the parking lot, busy burning garbage in a disused oil drum. Gritt looked up and waved, but Parazynski had already returned to the party, nearly tripping over a passed-out Smokey Bellicose.
After I Love You Too Much rolled around for the third time, the phone started to ring. The new office lady, Dotty San Quentin, was busy biting her lower lip and watching the clock, so Ben Parazynski (with a heart full of resentment), took the call. Seizing a nearby notebook and Econo-Lodge pen, he quickly jotted down the location of the frantic caller.
“Hey guys?” said Parazynski, standing on a desk for effect (although it wasn’t really necessary and it came off as ostentatious), “Some lady just called from Vershire. Sounds like they found some toxic waste barrels in the community garden and now all the neighbors are trying to eat her.”
“Let’s roll!” proclaimed the other Parazynski. A task-force consisting of Parazynski, Sauvé, and Parazynksi took off for Ready Room to suit-up. Unfamiliar with the new office space, they wound up walking into the closet and they all had a good laugh about that. Axes in hand, they peeled out of the garage in the 1998 Subaru Forrester into the night.
Meanwhile, as he threw another pizza box into the fire, Frank Gritt felt his phone vibrate in the pocket of his overalls. The number was listed as “restricted.” Cautiously, Gritt answered and heard an unfamiliar, yet sinister voice on the other end.
“So. Your little company has seemingly returned from the dead. However, you haven’t a prayer of surviving what we have in store for you.”
“Who is this?” bellowed Gritt, his voicing echoing through the parking lot. The line went dead. As Frank stared at his phone, an uneasy feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. Jim Rage’s Elite Zombie Hunting Squadron was back.
But for how long?
