AWKWARD ZOMBIE

You know it had been a pretty good morning for once diary. Wake up from a dream instead of a nightmare where I was burning to death, have a breakfast that stays down in my all-devouring pit of a stomach, and get out the door on time for one of the few jobs my kind are allowed. About twenty minutes later, the distance from me getting into my functioning PT Cruiser to riding down the freeway at five above the speed limit while the rocket men weaved in and out of traffic, I was on the side of the road with a black and white lit up.

Of course I knew the reason I'd been pulled over. The government-mandated sticker on my back windshield let the whole world know what I was. It was like an invitation for every jackass to do their part in making sure I'd know I wasn't welcome. Like this cop was doing.

He scribbled out a ticket for speeding, or expired plates, or a missing turn signal, or listening to Lady Gaga, or whatever the hell he chose. Wouldn't make a difference, people like him picked on us because we had no rights. Well we had one. Work for the government or be executed on the spot and put back where we belonged. At least that's how they see it.

Part of me couldn't really blame them at the time. I mean really, I died then came back. That isn't natural, which is incredibly ironic considering exactly why my kind came back.

I used to be Jack Henry, age 14. Yeah, common name. Anyways I'm not Jack Henry anymore, still 14 though, weird stuff. I'm officially R-354, F-Type, S-Rank. Someone was a little too into the manga when they came up with that system I'll tell you that. About five years back though some legislation got pushed through where we got assigned actual names. No more domo arigatou quips. The chuckleheads upstairs got the last laugh though, and made it so our names were like cheesy superhero identities. Real original.

So I'm Will. They wanted to call me Willy Pete but graciously amended it once they got wind of my rank. Hell guess that thing's useful sometimes. Pain in the booty the rest. You know I had a specialized platoon of assassins ready to punch my ticket from any false move I made, right diary? I think I told you.

The cop finally handed me my ticket, made me promise to pay it off (no court option for us) and kindly told me to get the hell out of his sight monster. Dude needed his coffee.

Forty minutes after that I stood in the middle of an Army base with a tank bearing down on me. Take a guess at what my job was. No really guess.

Weapon Tester. And I don't mean I tested the things, I mean they were tested on me. I'm what was considered the strongest of my kind's type, so they wanted to come up with something that can take me down. They didn't succeed.

I eyed the tank as it came closer. Hell if I knew the metal it was made of. Something that was supposed to be fireproof, electrically insulated, waterproof, and could withstand the very earth falling on it. Needed a laser to cut a piece, or so they said.

I didn't have a laser. But I didn't really need it. While my job may have been do or die in the most literal sense, there were some perks. Not everyone got to wreck billion dollar military equipment all day long.

That in mind, and with the sound of the tank firing, I flipped down my sunglasses and punched that shell with a fist so hot it vaporized the daisies thing on contact in a burst of white light brighter than the sun. Half a second later I did the same thing to the tank's chassis, leaving one very vulnerable drone exposed. I blasted him too since nobody had told me to leave it alone. I love the smell of ionization in the morning.

I guess I could sound more excited, but stuff like that was more of a chore than actual fun. Even if I had just taken a good bite of the defense budget with three hits.

Three people moved towards me. I of course recognized them from my many years. They were like me, except W-Type. A-Rank to boot. I could probably have taken them, but we had an aversion to harming one another. It wasn't right.

They escorted me off the testing site and the white coats rushed in to lament the particles of their precious project. Yeah screw 'em.

I ended up in a room deep underground, in complete vacuum. It had been constructed specifically with little old me in mind. No flame on there.

My interviewer entered the room dressed like an astronaut. The visor was tinted so I couldn't see, because they wanted to be able to cycle different people to see me without my being any the wiser. Whatever made them pop flyin' I guess. They all sounded like Darth Vader anyway.

The interviewer sat down at the table and laid a file on it. He opened it up and there was my face paper-clipped to a death certificate with plenty of papers underneath it.

It was 1:59 in the afternoon on a bright, sunny day and I was contemplating slitting my own throat. The question was whether to do it at the cash register or walk across the store to get a good spray pattern on the intimates in women's apparel.

"Seven AM, waking up in the morning!"

My left eye twitched, but before I could make up my mind to escape the vocal hell the register beeped as my fifteen minute break ended. The light automatically lit up and announced to all the customers of Door-Mart that I was open for abuse again.

"Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs!"

Supervillains of the world if you can hear my call then please find a way to eliminate Rebecca Black!

No one answered my mental plea and the song went on. An old man walked by, glanced at my lit-up number sign above the cash register and immediately proceeded to walk three registers down. I turned my head and saw him beeline for a coworker whose sign was dark to begin unloading his cart, ignoring her pleas that she was on break. And if she refused to ring him up then she'd be the one in trouble with management. To make things worse, three other customers had lined up behind the old man, one of whom grabbed the CLOSED sign on the conveyor belt and tossed it away. Left with no other choice, she adopted the horribly fake Door-Mart smile and proceeded to be their bitch. Such was retail.

"It's Friday, Friday!"

I picked up the walkie talkie next to my register and said, "Loss Prevention this is Register 12 reporting a breach of policy."

The device crackled and a voice that could have been male or female said, "This is LP, what's the problem?"

"Someone is breaking the Geneva Convention treaty by playing this song. You know, the bit about cruel and unusual punishment."

The walkie talkie was silent for a few seconds as the Loss Prevention crew laughed, safely secluded in their office away from this nightmare. It crackled to life and said, "Sorry, can't do anything. But let us know if it shoplifts and we'll be right on it."

"It's stealing my sanity," I replied.

"Unfortunately this store doesn't stock that product. LP out."

I put the walkie-talkie back in its place and looked around the massive store, or at least as far as I could see. My coworker's line had ballooned in size and she seemed ready to cry. I looked the other way and saw two kids skateboarding over by the displays and trying to break their falls by running into them. Cans rolled everywhere and a little old lady in one of our electric carts was buried in bargain toilet paper.

"It's Friday, Friday! Gotta get down on Friday!"

With no one in my line and no management in sight my patience reached its limit. Quick as a thought my hand flashed up, pointed at the loudspeaker, and blasted it with a bolt of lightning.

The lights exploded and everything was silent. Darkness reigned in Door-Mart.

Someone screamed and all hell broke loose. Customers bolted for the doors with merchandise in their carts, my walkie talkie was exploding with the sounds of Loss Prevention tripping over each other in their office, glass rained down on the immaculate linoleum floor, and everything was sweet chaos. Time to call it a day.

Then none of that happened. In less than an instant the lights were back on, the customers were walking around, and the walkie talkie was silent. I took a glance at the clock on my register. 1:59 pm.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I cringed and slowly turned around to find the manager staring at me impassively. She raised an eyebrow and said, "Getting off break soon?"

The register beeped behind me, the traitorous bastard.

She didn't bat an eye. "Good. Now, if you'll please get back to work then nothing will have happened. And one more thing." She pointed at the loudspeaker and the song began anew. She fixed me with a steely gaze and said, "I like this song. Best get used to it, Voltaire."

I winced at the name and she walked away.

"It's Friday, Friday! Gotta get down on Friday!"

"Fucking Timeskip," I muttered under my breath and turned around to see a wave of customers pounding for my register. As the only cashier on duty it would probably take an hour or more to clear this line again, all the while I'd be dealing with the dumbest idiots on the planet. I wasn't even allowed to electrocute them.

Such was retail. Even for a lapsed superhero.

PURE TESTOSTERONE

BY BEEF IRONSIDES

I looked out the window as we passed the mountain. It reminded me how fast the ship really goes, because I actually had something to gauge it. It's really hard to tell how fast you're going when the scenery is nothing but sand. Roxy coiled up around me and put her head next to mine, the two of us staring out the window in tandem. “What's the matter, girl?” I asked, scratching her head. It was incredible how much she had grown since the Captain and I found her. We think she was separated from her mother a few hours after birth. She was bloody and wailing when we found her, so the Captain picked her up and said, “Lookie here! I bet no one's ever tried to raise a sandworm before, right Kyle?” I was hesitant at first, especially when he assigned me to take care of her. I could barely take care of the ship's engines, let alone a voracious creature no one on Earth had ever tried to domesticate before. He just patted me on the back, turned around and climbed back up on the ship. That fantastic bastard.

“Kyle!” boomed The Captain over the PA system. “You need to come out here and look at this!” I tried to get up, but Roxy's weight kept me down. “Come on now, don't be an idiot.” I pried her off and walked towards the cast iron door that led out of her chambers. As I opened it, I heard her slither behind me. “You want to come out too?” She opened her three jaws and hissed, four orange tongues flailing around her mouth. She always hissed when she was excited. “Fine, I'm sure the Captain won't mind.”

“KYLE! There you are, my boy!” The Captain embraced me, his scraggly beard scratching my chin. “I see you've brought Roxy with you.” He gave Roxy a quick scratch and returned to the end of the deck, looking out as the sand passed beneath the ship. “So Kyle, you'd say old Lioness here is pretty daisies huge, right?” He patted the ship. He called it Lioness, we never found a name anywhere on the hull so he took it upon himself to name it. I guess it fit. The ship had four legs certainly, and it went pretty daisies fast.
“Yeah,” I said. “Pretty daisies huge.” He chuckled and leaned farther forward on the rail. “So, if you saw something even bigger than Lioness, it'd be pretty amazing, right?” I nodded. I had no idea what he was getting at. “Well, look over THERE!”

With a large, sweeping motion, he pointed to the west, where a giant mountain stood. I was confused. “Well yeah, Captain, but that's just a mountain. Mountains are...you know, pretty big normally.” He laughed. “It's not the mountain, Kyle. It's what's INSIDE OF IT!”

He shoved me aside as he ran to the cockpit. He quickly scrabbled up the ladder and adjusted the controls as fast as he could. One of the largest guns that was mounted on The Lioness angled itself towards the mountain. It fired with a loud bang that almost sent me flying back into the rail. I held my ground though, as did Roxy. BANG! The projectile slammed into the side of the mountain.
“Sir, I still don't understand!” I shouted, making sure he could hear me through the glass of the cockpit. “You will in a moment, Kyle!”

Just then, I heard a low rumble that seemed to pervade everything around me. I looked towards the mountain. I couldn't believe it; the mountain was moving. One end of it lifted up and then then the other, as eight chitinous legs sprouted underneath it. Two eye stalks peeked out in front of the legs. Another low rumble as the mountain quaked, and two giant claws busted out of the side.

Roxy and I leaned over the rail to get a better look at what was going on. “CAPTAIN, WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?” I saw him laughing in the cockpit, though I couldn't hear him through the glass. “WHAT IS THAT?”

He sat back in scratched leather chair he put in the cockpit, smiling.
“Well Kyle, I would call that...Adventure!”