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Planet Terror: The One with the Alien Reference
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“A simple element—fire….” He said plainly. “I used it the other day on you both.”
“Fucker!” Bette screamed. She had been sedated, but still remembered a peculiar sensation, and a strange smell.
“Your cells did regenerate, but I have no doubt that if I had completely engulfed you in flames, you would have finally died.”
“And do you have firethrowers and shit like that on hand?” Bette hissed through her teeth at him. He nodded.
“I was going to use one on you, both of you, tomorrow.” He smirked.
“Kill him.” Peggy said to Bette.
“Wait..” Helena seemed to be showing mercy. The fake doctor smiled, relieved. He began muttering to himself, of Adam’s temptations, of Eve’s treachery.
But Helena was not showing mercy. “Not until Caiohme is out of the room.” She said, walking out with her daughter.
Behind her, Bette neatly cut the head of the religious right clear off his neck. It was messy, but they had all seen worse.
Alice and Bette went down to find the flame throwers.
Upstairs, the others tried to contact the rest of their people, hiding away in buildings throughout the military base.
“Woah.” Alice gazed upon nearly fifty flame throwers, and a strangely large supply of liquid nitrogen. “What kind of fucking hospital was this before the infection?”
“They probably just used it to make ice cream.” Bette joked, though she was still enraged. “Let’s figure out a way to get these up.”
When they got upstairs again, they found that they still had bigger problems than they had anticipated.
“They’re all off the grid.” Catherine reported, pointing to the security television screens. “There are probably fifty of them left…all around…probably inside the building as well.”
They looked as sudden, distant screams could be heard.
On one of the cameras, a group of people were dragged out of their hiding place, and eaten by fast moving infected.
“We’ll go.” Helena said at last. A sickened feeling of dread fell over the room. “Bette…”
“No, wait, not alone.” Alice tried to pull Bette back.
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I hope you’re not trying to imply that anybody else’s hot dogs are better. Granted, some hot dogs are VERY bad (Remember I told you I had dinner with my aunt the other night? She made chicken and it was awful.), but some hot dogs can be most satisfying. I didn’t say they were good for you. I’ve had hot dogs in Canada (yes! Canada!), I’ve even had them in a Parisian cafe, where they prefer to call them frankfurters if compelled to specify le type de saucisse, and found them comparable. So let’s not start getting snotty about American hot dogs, alright? HB, I think you’re letting evil doctors off the hook too quickly. First Block, then religious right what’s his face. They deserve to be roasted slowly. But flamethrowers are OK for the general zombie masses, just too many of them for individual attention, nor is it anything personal with them. It is quite a predicament with mushy ones reforming. Our girls better put their noggins together and think fast before they run out of lighter fluid. And thanks for mentioning Ripley even if she can’t make an appearance.
oh hb, when you mentioned BBQ-ing, I was thinking of some ribs..a baked potato, a nice salad…but instead it is just zombe flambe! I concur completely with the run of the mill offings of both evil drs…all Block got after torturing Bette was a little shooting? All Christian right/religious fanatic/homophobe/evil zealot got after torturing Bette was a fast beheading?? This is not sending the right message to evil drs who want to torture Bette, hb! I say, first make em eat hot dogs! Then alot of pain and torturing and dressing in unfashionable ways and what have you, prior to their slow and agonizing demises. I also want to point out that they seem to have been fighting infected for quite a while now,and dispatching them in a variety of ways, yet fire never occurred to them before now?? How is my little zombony hanging in? And again, this begs the question, how can they kill any infected if they are already DEAD!!! I say, give them the hot dogs too!!
Ok. Peggy saved from being munched on by infected: check. Evil Newt-job dead: check. Quick fix-it found for finishing off re-animating infected: check. Worry, laughter, anger, dread, fright, sadness: check. Me loving this story: check. Welp, hb. Seems like we’ve covered all the bases for the time being. Next chapter, please.
i’m going to make the next chapter not so scary for jackiee…:)
did she make chicken hot dogs? your aunt, i mean? or just chicken? poor your aunt, you should show her how to make a good maple glaze for that chicken. american hot dogs, hot dogs generally, are disgusting, but good…i ate one yesterday and i can feel the ill health growing within me…sorry bout the doctor, but he wasn’t really a doctor, coz bette kinda is…i fudged that one up anyway, he was more like an evil religious zealot coz of the whole church and state and science schism and…lol…i should get back to work and stop analyzing my own story
“Indeed, Bette dropped a pin off the desk, and it clanged rather loudly.” By far the funniest thing I’ve ever read. And the zombies trying to plead their case before getting burned to death (can i really say death if they’re already dead? *shrug*)…very funny. Glad that idiot doctor is dead, he deserved it…I knew something wasn’t right with that guy. And hot dogs (of any nationality) are gross…i sympathize with Helena. PPS
Given that her own vocabulary would make the proverbial sailor blush, Peggy’s objection to Helena’s “Eat this assholes” struck me as a tad hypocritical. Helena’s hotdog anxieties are more than justified: an inventory of hotdog ingredients (regardless of nationality) would sicken even the hardiest zombie.
Oh, good god no, HB, my traditionalist aunt wouldn’t even consider chicken or turkey hot dogs, and I really only threw her chicken in as part of a riff on bad food and faux nationalism. I’m not sure the maple glaze would have helped much as my aunt’s prep meth amounted to something like: go to the very back of your freezer to find a foil wrapped nugget that’s been entombed for months. Unwrap and thaw. Place in a roasting pan with at least an inch of water (for moistness), making sure the chicken pieces are sitting IN the water. Place in oven until doomsday or at least until I come back from walking her dog. The dog loves me for this, by the way. My aunt admits to having a diminished sense of taste (I’ll say!), but also assiduously avoids flavor adding elements and is visibly disturbed at the prospect of things like black pepper and garlic (that bit has made me wonder if she’s a vampire, but aren’t vampires supposed to stop aging?). But I agree, if you’re going to eat hot dogs you should never, ever think about what’s inside them.
Geez, thanks for the nightmares. I should make you stay with me instead of me being alone with my dog