SAMPLE

Pt. 1

VANNA, PLEASE SHOW US A ‘Z’!

 

“This city is headed for a disaster of biblical proportions.” – Dr. Peter Venkman

 

                                                      … 3 … (6:23PM)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Geoffrey Lewis is ‘The Greatest Father in the World.’  This Penny can plainly see. It is printed in large obnoxious type on the mug.  It must be so.

     How can you be the greatest anything ‘in’ the world?  Everyone lives on the surface of the planet.  She supposes you can get technical in that anyone living below the level of the ground, like in their parent’s basement or something, can be considered to be living ‘in’ the world.  But even then you don’t have the world over you. 

     Besides, Geoffrey lives on the 23rd floor.

     No, this should read ‘The Greatest Father on the World’… this cheap coffee mug on the mantle.  And considering the fact that he told her his kids are 2 and 4 and he more than likely bought it himself it probably shouldn’t read anything at all.

     Penny wished she had never listened to her pushy friend Barbara when she said, “Hey, I know someone who’s dying to meetcha.”

     ‘Damn you Barbara.’

     Penny wonders how many of her other friends have been suckered into blind dates by that intervening matchmaking fool only to realize they were in for an afternoon/ evening of pure unadulterated Hell.  She wants to call her friend up and say, 

     “They’re coming to get you Barbara… all the women whose hopes you got up only to have come crashing down in a mind blistering haze of raw bitter disappointment around their ankles.”

     Of course, Penny has now been suckered too.

     She sighs.

     On the television the local news reporter is confidently spewing forth enigmatic banter about sports teams and personalities.  She supposes there are people out there, who can decipher what this gentleman probably considers clever word play, but she is not among them and she considers herself to be of higher than normal intelligence.

     “The Suns gangbang the Heat in a 4/ 3 series shutout.  With Farnsley the flaming flying fearsome fornicator of fury…”

     ((BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE)) – The emergency broadcast signal breaks his trail of ‘f’ words clean off.

     ((Click))

     Geoffrey is standing by the door frame leading into the kitchen with a bottle of white wine and two long stemmed glasses.

“I’m sorry, I never watch the news.   It’s so plebian.”

     Why is she here?  Her friends insisted she get ‘out there’; that she should ‘assess the field.’ 

     But this…?

     They had decided on an earlier date consisting of pottery class, wine, and then dinner; but here they were at the halfway point and Penny was ready to throw in the towel.

     After an ever so painful class, (he actually tried to recreate the scene from ‘Ghost’); she knows everything there is to know about him… none of it fascinating.

     Of her he knows nothing.

     ‘Worst date ever.’

     “I think that was the emergency broadcast signal.”

     He scoffs.  Penny is not used to being scoffed at, not even a little.

     “They throw that thing up every time it starts to drizzle.  The local affiliates are so scared of being accused of ‘missing something’ that they panic at the first sign of anything but 70 degrees and clear blue skies.”

     His smile says it all… silly little girl.

     The slightly pudgy History professor drops down on the couch beside her and leans the hand holding the glasses towards her mouth.

     “Milady?”

     ‘Jesus Christ.’

     Penny clasps the glass around the bowl and smiles as tight a smile as she can muster.

     Geoffrey smiles back, (not without an underlying trace of lewdness,) and leans in to pour the wine.

     “Oh I have so many things to teach you my child.”  He holds up his glass by its stem.  “Like so, as to not disrupt the temperature of the vintage.”

     “Pardon?”

     She raises her eyebrows.

     But he is not quick enough to catch the severity of her tone.

She takes a swig to keep from blurting out some as of yet unheard profanity and quickly regrets the endeavor, wincing at the cheapness of the Chardonnay.

     “Like so my pet.  Between your thumb and forefinger… dainty like the lady you are.”

     … My

     … Pet

     Slowly, in as controlled a manner as she can muster, Penny sets her glass down on the table.  She closes her eyes a moment before reopening them.  She hopes the person sitting ever so close beside her has changed, but that sour spam breath is ever present.

     Same asshole.

     A sprig of her golden hair has fallen out of her bun and into her face.  She blows it to the side with a puff.

     “Geoffrey…”

     His look of confusion says it all.  In his mind he has been the perfect host, taking her by the hand and showing her the proper way to behave as any gentleman should.  He is like most men; all knowing… every consideration an act of magnanimous benevolence, and his complete and utter blindness to this makes it all the more maddening.

     “Penelope I…”

     “Geoffrey I think it is time for me to call it a night.  It was really nice meeting you and I wish you all the luck in the world.”

     His eyebrows go through the slow but steady metamorphosis of angled confusion to scrunchalicious rage. 

     “I see.”

     Geoffrey Lewis, history professor at the University of Detroit-Mercy, slowly places his glass and bottle down on the table and rises, walking Penny to the door.

     She turns to him at the entrance, blowing her hair to the side again.

     “Thank you for a lovely…”

     He holds up his finger.

     “Shut up.”

     Not quite what she expects.

     He holds his forehead in his hands a moment, composing himself before he speaks.  Finally he looks her directly in the eyes.

     “You are… um; you’re like all the rest.  Just a pathetic, self-important cunt waiting for some mythical Mr. Perfect to come along and sweep you off your pretty little ankles… and yes you do have pretty little ankles.  But you are going to die one day, and when you do you will be alone, with swollen ankles, and wondering why you passed up on so many decent guys such as me. 

     That is my prediction for you; you will die alone and bitter.  My only wish is that it be sooner rather than later. 

     Die bitch, die.  That is what you can do for me.”

     Penny is silent.  She never…

     She never expected this.

     She stares back into his eyes.  She stares back into them with twin lasers.  When her hair falls into her eyes again she continues to burn holes in his corneas.  He holds her gaze for as long a moment as he can before looking away. 

     He looks away hard.

     “Thank you for a lovely evening.” She reiterates coldly.

     Penelope Anne Layne turns and walks down the hall, never looking back.

     Geoffrey shakes his head and closes the door. 

     ‘Crazy bitch.’

     That look gave him goose bumps up and down his arms.  He wiggles his whole body trying to shake them off.  He had not been wrong, of that he is sure.  If that bitch wants to turn down a perfectly good man then she deserves what she gets… a lifetime of prissy cats.

     What more does a girl want these days?

     He sits down on his couch and grabs his glass by its stem.

     “Just you and me old chum.”

     As he pops the cork there is a slovenly scratching sound at his door.

     “That’s right.”

     Stupid heifer has come to her senses.  He will let her apologize, snivel for a bit, then comfort her nice-ankled ass directly into his super silky water bed.   He perfumed the sheets earlier that day in anticipation of the encounter… lavender, every woman’s dream.

     “I’m coming my pet.”

     The sound of whimpering greets him from the other side.

     ‘She is more distraught than I thought.’

     He opens the door.

     “I’m glad you came to your…”

     Several bloody, bite ridden forms stumble into Geoffrey Lewis’ apartment.  They drag their legs and reach out slowly for his body.  Still it is all very sudden and, to Geoffrey, very confusing.

Some of their skin looks as if it has been scratched off the frame.  The look in their eyes is not one of cognitive recognition but rather one of simple basic desire, of raw hunger.  And every dull, wide eye is focused on him.

     “Hey!”

     He is confused.

     This may be the most confusing moment of his life… that is it is until they begin to chew on his flesh. 

     One grabs his wrist and bites through finger and wine glass stem alike, pulling sinew and cartilage until it snaps back into its gore smeared face.  The glass shard pierces its tongue and lodges into the roof of its mouth wedging it open tight as it continues to wiggle its lips in an attempt to chew on Geoffrey. The others encounter no such impediments as they happily bite the history professor again and again.

     His screams go unheeded.

     Penny has long since been on the elevator.

     Not ‘on’ the elevator… ‘in’ it.

     The only thing she hears is a barely recognizable muzak version of Christina Aguilara’s ‘What a Girl Wants’

     She hums along with the music on the long slow ride to the ground.

 

XOXOXO

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