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EXTREME ZOMBIE CHALLENGE By Max Keanu  

Posted by Scott Wilson

The rough-hewn, one-eyed, leathery-face director with his headphones and microphone resting atop a scared, bandaged and stitched-up head, points to the bearded sports jock in front of the camera and says, “Look alive Bear, here’s your cue … 5, 4, 3… ” He moves the electronic clap-board away from the camera lens, then mouths, “two, one, action!”

“Krity mates, Bear Foote here, we’ve got a blasto show tonight, some heavy mental action from our zombed-out, zoned-out, down and out, brain-dead zombo buds. First off tonight--Switzerland’s, Eager Eiger Zomb-Goz-Ga’splaten Trials; after that, Rip Kord’s hang gliding tips--he’ll tell ya how ta rid your rig of pesky hanger-oners and dead weight zombs; after that you’ll dig our exclusive footage of Lichtenstein’s hockey-zombie mash-up finals and to wrap up tonight, more about the revitalized round-robin game of Jai alai, using real zombie balls … hey, who knew they bounced so well, holy pelotas! And that ain’t all; you ready for this… a special guest appearance by Michael Vick and his trio of singing and dancing Zombie Pit Bulls. “

Harley “One-Eye” Armstrong, the station’s director, cues up the first video of the evening from the control room and cues Bear to start the live voice-over narration.

“Real men respect it, revere it, know it as Mordwand, that’s German folks, not ZombieSprect, hey wankers, listen up now, us real men know it as, ‘ The Murder Wall’. Yes, ladies, gentlemen, you eager-beaver deadsters, and all of you who regularly tune in to Extreme Zombie Challenge—tonight, tonight we’re going live to Eiger’s annual Zomb-Goz-Ga’splaten Challenge! At 5,900 feet, almost straight up and down-- enough to make any sissy-man’s do-dads ascend back up into his or her body, yooo! Eiger’s Zomb-Goz-Ga’splaten’s legacy: the monster mountain challenge has already taken 192 red-blooded humans and given four-thousand lucky, living dead litch-monkeys a real rumble-tumble for ZombieBucks and fabulous prizes.”

A pyramid shaped snow-covered peak appears on the screen; an enormous mountain that looks as if God’s steam shovel swooped down one day and took a mile long vertical swipe out of it.

As the telephoto lens zooms in on the mountain, dozens of real men, in climbing gear, shotguns strapped to their backs, are lowered to the top of peak helicopters. They repel cautiously down to strategic places above the five thousand foot level. Hundreds of rope ladders dangle down from the sheer cliff at one, two, three, four and five thousand foot elevations, pinioned securely on crags and granite out cropping.

The swarming mass of seething non-humanity, the living-dead riff-raff of zombmanity surges, gnawing hungrily at the mighty mountain, vying for a chance at double-immortality, big bucks and afterlife fame. Many grasp at the dangling rope ladders, ascend fanatically; knowing ZombieBucks, pickled-animal treats, a few specially chosen pedophiles, and a future of celebrity and grunting glory awaits the most determined.

“Nothing like clean, clear mountain air to purge the senses of zombie stench, gives one a new lease on life.“ Bear Foote exclaims, breathing in imaginary Alpine air.

“Ahhhh, yes! There goes the first zombpetitor from the Mumbai BrainTastic team off the Eiger now… double back flip, triple rock bounce--splat! Whoo-hoo! Ladies and gentlemen, a disqualifying full zombie flat-ass landing, but check it out dudes, dudettes, he’s back up, he gets back up!” Bear shouts, pauses dramatically, watching the jelly-boned zombie collect his body parts, stand timorously, humiliated by an early demise and then fall flat on his face, hiding from the cameras his shameful crying, whining agony of undead defeat.

Dozens of zombies clamber up the vertical monster, many plummet to their living deaths as the studio audience uses push-pad technology to tally their favorites zombie teams’ progress, notate inspired dramatic grunting phrases, and meticulously score each team on its utter lack of style and grace. The five thousand foot level is reached and a zombie team; the team in blood red and puke colored jerseys, wins the days. The ringing of the Swiss cowbell and frenzied gnawing on a live, suspended Swiss cow at the five thousand foot level, signals the Pukey-Pirates team as this year’s winners

"In the Pukey-Pirates we see true grit and the indefatigable spirit of the living dead. Now dudes, all you groms in the audience, quiet down and listen up, the final challenge and individual play-offs can now begin… this is what you’ve all been waiting for: The Flying Rat Grab-Double Full Gainer Challenge!” The audience hoots and howls as gamblers worldwide place humongous bets of multi-million Euros, Yuan’s and what’s left of the US dollar system on their zombpetitor favorites.

“Ladies and gentlemen, and others--tonight one heroic zomb-bro, one proud member of the Pukey-Pirates team will take home all the honors. One lucky zomboid will become the spokes-zombie, the revered practice target and bum-boy for the National Rifle Association, be awarded a lifetime modeling contract from American Eagle Outfitters and obtain an entry-level position as a fry cook at McDonalds in Las Vegas… hey, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

The director switches screens, fades in the remote camera and then zooms in on a Pukey-Pirate zombpetitor picking his nose, eating his buggers, scabs and rotten flesh for extra energy at the five thousand foot level.

“Zombo Power Bars, man alive! This completion is a lifetime dream for many zombs! I’m so humbled, proud to announce this heroic action worldwide tonight,” Bear Foote says, his well-honed outdoorsy enthusiasm conveyed with effortless aplomb, his tough-guy shtick in full macho-overdrive that woos and rouses the audience to near frenzy.

“Remember, each team member will be judged on the gawkiest leap from the cliff side, then scored on the one or two-handed mid-air snatch of the live, giant Bosavi woolly zombie rat. Specially trained human climbers above will expertly toss this giant rat down to our eager competitors. During the free-fall down, our heroic zombpetitor must viciously eviscerate the large rat, consume the entirety of its brain using chop-sticks and land in a standing upright position, facing towards the zoomed-in telephoto lens of our remote camera.”

On the mountainside, one courageous zombie from the Pukey-Pirate team leaps soon after seeing a giant and juicy, fifty-foot high human brain projected on a nearby ice wall by laser magic. He catches his foot on the rope ladder, tumbles head over rope-caught heels, bangs his head, loses an eye after his body slams hard against the solid rock wall and slithers downward. At the four thousand foot level, he bounces off a granite crag, is split open at the seams, his zombie detritus leaking out… but to everyone’s amazement, the deflating zombie hits another ledge like a sack of wet cement and is miraculously and once again on the regulation trajectory and back in the action.

“Scored extra points there! This guy is good. Was that planned? Are you thinking steroids? I am! Who is this dead bitch’s corpse coach anyway? Obviously, he’s been well coached, certainly by the best in the biz. Check him out now, dudes… he’s going for the now famous double handed flying rat-grab--holy-moldy, zombie butt-bites from hell—he does a two-handed rat tail and gonad grab, then immediately executes the patented Charlie Sheen rockin’-rollin’, head-slamin’, ring-a ram-a-do! Fuckin’ mental, dudes! This may be our winner; this deadheaded moron may have temporarily stunned the giant Bosavi rat… will he, will he…. Oh, good God on a greased virgin’s pogo stick--solid severing of Ratatouille’s skull in one nasty bite! Just look at the nimble-fingered finesse he possesses with the chopsticks… true epicurean zombie magic. But the question remains… will he have time for the double, full gainer? “ Bear asks in his leading outback enunciation, teasing in a low rumble of well-chosen sports mumbo-jumbo the perfect words of provocation and elegance.

The director wipes away the falling zombie screen with a diagonal left to right swipe, and instantly cuts to the in-ground Splatcam, the video now showing the flailing, rat-chomping, spinning zombie, plummeting head first in all his glory towards splatblivion.

“Remember folks, the double full gainer is a forward dive where the diver executes two, full backwards somersaults before hitting the ground. The zombo must end up in a standing position, with very little wobbling about, in a ridged position and without the loss of a single body parts. He must hold that unfaltering position for a full sixty seconds. Allowing any boney, bloody protuberance to touch the ground is automatic disqualification. Keep in mind that crucial one-minute time frame for falling body parts and limbs. As added incentive… judges from Clinique’s, ‘Afterlife’, zombie cosmetic line, award extra points to the contestant and their top of the line, Magic Maggot Moonlight mascara, blush and skin-crème, to the wife if a live rat’s tail is hanging, wiggling from his mouth or the head is peaking out and still alive for the full sixty seconds.”

Closer and closer the diving and daring zombo comes to the Splatcam, in a quick cut and zoom to the main cam, the munching zombo is seen gobbling down the rear end of the giant Bosavi woolly rat’s ass.

“Ladies and Gentlemen I’ve been notified by our director, this contestant is none other than the well-know composer and musician, Yanni! You all remember him! He made zombie music for zombie minds when he was living. Maybe he’s finally found his vocation in life, lets hope so.”

The director cuts back to the Splatcam, hoping for higher rating with zombie Yanni’s head shattering crushing defeat.

“The landing, the all important landing… ladies and gentlemen and others… is Yanni living-dead enough to make it and take the Pukey-Pirates to victory? He’s completed one full gainer, here comes number two… yes, here it comes, number two right in your face-- here it comes--he did it…gainer numero Uno then Doo-dooy! Holy crucifixes up a zombie nun’s constipated butt! He did it! But wait, he lost an arm--still, if he can make the landing, closer, closer….”

The director slows the camera speed to 50% and in slow-motion Yanni’s bare-bottom appears to float down like an ugly smiling and withered cherub, directly over the camera lens, revealing his tiny zombie penis and two shriveled up zombie testicles. At first, after the bone-crushing landing, he wobbles on two solidly planted bloody feet, stands perfectly still and can be heard nervously humming Schubert lieder, Die Ratten Song, in a low growl. We can hear the large bones in the legs crack, crumble, rattle--a single shinbone pops out of his leg with a spray of black blood, but doesn’t touch the ground to disqualify him.

“Ladies and gentlemen I think we have a wiener--ha-ha-ha--I mean a winner. No swarthy Mexican will be playing world-class Jai-lai with Yanni’s shriveled up testicles anytime soon. 45… 46… and the clock is ticking… folks, hold tight, 54, 55… oh no! Both femurs have snapped, pierced the leg flesh, 57… Ladies and gentlemen and others, Yanni, the musician we all loved to hate, crumples in defeat… he’s going down… he simply crumples to the ground. What a shame for zombie sports aficionados, old hippies and living dead New Agers everywhere!”

In the control room, Harley Armstrong watches a bank of television monitors all displaying different feeds; one of a Lichtenstein hockey rink littered with ravaged bodies and body parts strewn about; another screen of Rip Kord’s spectacular hang-glider lift off over Kauai’s Kalalau Valley with four zombies frantically hanging on to his dangling legs; on another screen, a robot interviewing various Jai-lai player’s trans-gender zombie girlfriends; and the last screen showing dozens of enraged zombies outside the TV station with signs reading : Stop the Violence Against Zomb-bros, Zombie’s Were Once People, Too!, Stop Zombploitation!’

“Ladies and gentlemen and others, I’ve been told by Harley, were going outside for some live action with the infrared Voo-Doo Cam. Apparently, we have a live action feed from our intrepid cameraman and artic ice diver, Sean ‘Tartan Balls’ McCloskey, who was filming Michael Vicks arrival at our studio when things suddenly went south. Bad Newz blues for Vick fans, his zombie bitches escaped, have him cornered in the Organ Donation and Exchange Center warehouse next door.”

The Voo-Doo cam zooms in on Vicks atop a cryogenic freezer in a gigantic warehouse, tossing frozen human and zombie organs to his aggressive pit bulls. Vick sweet-talks them to no avail. A rag-tag gaggle of zombies nearby bait the pit-pulls on with enthueastic grunting and by yanking off body parts, throwing them at Vick as if they were footballs.

“Tartan, krity mate, does Vick even have a chance?”

A disembodied Scottish voice responds in a heavy brogue “Errrr Bear, these ferocious little lassies here, nipped the bugger at his ankles, ah, the poor wee bogan Vick, undergoing zombification as we speak… see fer for your self, mate.” Tartan says, the Voo-Doo cam zooming tight, a close-up of Vick’s gnarled; dog-savaged face fills the screen. Vick smiles and winks into the Voo-Doo cam as his jaw is ripped off.

“Can ya believe it? Vick’s a spot-on showman to the end. Well, that’s it for Extreme Zombie Challenge. Next week, can zombie balls hit the links; will the golfer’s dream balls be coming to the Master? We’ll have a panel discussion with your favorite extreme zombie golfers, Tiger “Strap-On” Woods sharing with us his expert knowledge of zombie balls and his grouping groupies. Also lined up, a special in-house interview with famous zombie grizzly-mom and perennial presidential hopeful, Sarah “Dinosaur Spawn” Palin. Mark this on your calendars, as she promised to let my pet moose, Big Bear Junior, mate with her, have raw animal sex. She’s in season for the next two weeks so she told this reported, on the record—Harley, hey, One Eye! Cue up Gizzard Mom and let ‘er rip!”

Over the video footage comes the voice of zombie-mom Palin, while shooting at a new-born elk calf with a bazooka, her voice moans and groans in ZombieSprect, “Bearrrr, horny, garrr bears, elk, wolves, moose, eat brains, love moose nuts, must be president, must eat liberal brains!”

“Thank you, Harley One Eye, a fun lady for sure! Dudes don’t miss her, her entire zombie family here, yes live and in person… well almost live. Tune in next week, fer sure, or be here in the studio audience, Grizzly-Zombo-Mumbo, she’ll be taking your questions... course, givin' intelligent answers is another thing for her. Remember; tune in again next week blue bloods, red bloods and no bloods. Bear Foote, signing off dudes, dudettes, others--stay mental!”

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 12, 2011 at 3:58 PM . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .

1 comments

Wow, what a great story!!

March 15, 2011 at 5:45 PM

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