This was my final assignment for my blog. Been meaning to get it up for a while now. Essentially the goal was to write an essay or piece based on all of our research. This is my first piece of fiction since at least 2006.
This was it. Everything I had been working up to. I examined my surroundings. A waiting room not unlike one in a doctor’s office, however instead of medical degrees behind the secretary’s desk, pictures of celebrities smiled back at me. The way they stared made it seem like their lifeless eyes were burning holes into my soul.
I could only hope that I’d be able to leave this room soon-
“Mr.Parker? He’s ready to see you.”
“Wha...?” The voice of the secretary broke me out of my trance. “Oh. Thank you.” I stood up and started walking towards the open door, just a few steps behind the secretary.
“Richard? Mr. Parker is here to see you.”
The inside of the office was now visible. “Thank you Tiffany,” a man’s voice replied. “That will be all for now.”
A desk chair turned out towards the window blocked my view of the voice’s owner. As I stepped further into the room, the chair slowly turned to face me. In it sat Dick Holloway, C.E.O. of Bonzai Productions. This meeting would determine whether or not my hard work would finally pay off or be completely worthless.
“Have a seat Mr. Parker,” he said as he gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Can I call you Arnold?”
“S-sure.” Honestly, I hated my name, but right now I had other things to worry about.
“Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?” He pushed a button on the intercom on his desk. “Tiffany?”
“Yes?” came the muffled reply.
“N-no, I’m alright Mr. Holloway.” I quickly sputtered.
“Please, call me Dick! We’re all friends here.” This did not make me feel any more at ease. And who else was he referring to?
“I can see you’re nervous, so let’s get down to business shall we?”
My silence must have been the answer he was looking for since the next thing I knew, he was talking again. “We loved your screenplay! Absolutely genius!” he exclaimed.
“Really? I-I mean, thank you. You have no idea how much work I’ve-”
“There were just a few things that I’d like to discuss with you.”
“O-oh?” The nerves were beginning to set back in.
“Don’t get me wrong, we are ready to make an offer but there are just a few things we would like to change.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for one, your zombies seem, well, kind of...dead. This foot dragging nonsense is ridiculous! How can anyone find that scary at?”
“B-b-but, that’s how-”
“And these characters. Where’s the conflict? You have them all working together! None of them are emotionally crushed by the end of civilization! Where’s the fun in that?”
“I’m not sure what you-”
“And the witch doctor? Where’d that come from? No one is going to buy any of this!”
“You clearly don’t-”
“Trust me. I know exactly what I’m talking about. I personally greenlit our last three zombie movies and they were all huge hits in the box office. You’ve seen them right?”
“I have. They’re what inspired me. You see-”
“So you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you let us make a few changes to the script we’re going to pull out all the stops for your movie,” he raised his arms in the air as he said this. “I’m picturing full on gore. Sex! Rock & Roll! All in glorious 3D! What do you think? The public are just going to eat it up!” A Cheshire grin was pasted across his face. I could feel greed seeping off the guy.
I wasn’t lying. Those kinds of movies were what inspired me to write my screenplay. I’ve never had any real desire for fame and fortune like everyone else, but I couldn’t just sit there and let these movies ruin the groundwork that George A. Romero, The Grandfather of the Zombie, had laid out. Holloway obviously had no idea what sort of audience was out there, just waiting for someone to return life to the undead.
I knew. Growing up watching Romero’s films with my friends, the production quality and makeup was laughable in comparison to any of the box office hits of my childhood. Blue skinned zombies slowly limped along in huge mobs. Sure, there was some merit in what Holloway was talking about; zombies that could run and jump, but anyone that knew anything about zombies would know these actions weren’t realistic, or at least realistic in terms of zombies.
“Mr. Holloway, why do you think so many people are drawn to these films about zombies? The graphic effects? The splatter porn?” I was feeling more confident now. “What about the brief opportunity to see the majority of the world devastated?”
A confused look crossed his face. “Well, that’s just plain morbid. Why would anyone want that?”
“You’re telling me that you get along with every human being you run into? Zombie fans are looking for an escape from the bullshit of the world. From the people around them that, in their eyes, are already zombies. You’re giving them exactly what they don’t want. More bullshit,” I stood up as I said this. “Thanks, but no thanks. You can keep your 3D sex scenes, Dick. I want to do this right.”
“Y-you have no clue what you’re giving up here Arnold. I’m talking big money!”
“That’s okay. You can keep your money. If Romero has taught me anything, it’s that the zombie apocalypse has all the best sales.”
Fraser Tripp
December 2010
