*Sam and I (Pt. 2)

Here's a new excerpt from "Sam and I".  Enjoy!

“Martin?” said Sam, tapping on the underside of my bed.  “Martin, you awake?”

            “Whaaaat!?”  I whined.

            “Oh”, Sam said.  “Well, I wanted to ask you something”.

            “Dude, I’m so tired”, I said.  “Can’t it wait?”

            “Probably, but this has really been killing me and I need closure.”  Sam said.

            “Fine; what is it?”  I asked.

            “Why is it that in all the zombie movies you dumbasses never know about zombies?” Sam said.  “I mean, Night of the Living Dead came out in 1968 and there have been hundreds or thousands of zombie movies since then and still every time somebody sees a zombie walking around they’re like, ‘What’s wrong?  You sick?’  And I’m like, fuck no you moron, it’s a zombie!  What the hell’s wrong with you?!  I mean, I may be biased (for obvious reasons), but you guys being so stupid makes it that much easier to root for my undead brothers.  You know what I mean?”

            “I don’t know, man.”  I said.  “I don’t write the screenplays.”

            “Well, no shit.”  Sam said.  “I’ve seen your writing and let me tell you, Uwe Bol wouldn’t even touch that shit.”

            “I’m going to bed.”  I said.

            “Wait wait.  Okay I’m sorry about the Uwe Bol comment.”  Sam said.  “But seriously, why do you think that is?”

            “I don’t know.”  I said.  “They probably need that ignorance present in the story to create panic amongst the characters.  I mean, if everybody knew what a zombie was from the get go, they would just bash ‘em in the head and go on with their day.  But I see your point.  If I saw a zombie, the first thing I would think was ‘Oh shit!  It’s a zombie!  Someone shoot it in the head.”

            “Pffft, hahaha.”  Sam laughed.

            “What?”  I asked.

            “You sure you wouldn’t freeze up and shit your pants?”  Sam said.

            “Whatever.”  I said.

            “Man, the first time you saw me I thought you were gonna cry.”  Sam said.  “Now, I know I don’t smell like pumpkin spice, but fuck me; I couldn’t sleep that night with the load you dropped in your Fruit of the Looms.  I had to lay face down in hopes that the carpet would act as a filter.”

            “You’re a dick, Sam.”  I said.  “You took me by surprise in a totally vulnerable state.  That’s not really fair.”

            “Well, how do you think it would happen?”  Sam asked.  “It’s not like we’re going to go door to door a week before the apocalypse and announce ourselves like sex offenders moving into a new neighborhood.”