Hey everybody, I need you to listen up! Could everybody just be cool for a second? I've got something important to say. Excuse me, everybody in the hysterical prayer circle, I'm talking to you. Please...zip it.
Okay, my name is Hal Galboni and I'm an ex-cop. Now, I know some of you might have read about my termination in the newspapers. If so, all I would like to say in my defense is that some retarded children are excellent liars. That's it.
Ma'am, please. What's done is done and somebody needs to take control of this situation. It's dangerous out there.
Now, the first thing we need to do is get our heads straight and separate myth from fact.
Myth: Evil space aliens are real. So, you can just breathe easy on that one.
Fact: Zombies, vampires, prehistoric man-eating creatures from another dimension, and vicious birds like the kind featured in the Hitchcock movie Birds, are in fact real.
Hey, calm down everybody! We're just going over the facts here.
It turns out that zombies, vampires, the prehistoric things, and even the god-damn Hitchcock birds are as real as the blood splattered on old Mrs. Valentine's new blouse. The four sects of hellish monsters have inexplicably formed an alliance whose sole purpose is the extermination of the human race.
Damn it! Will you please stop crying, Mrs. Valentine? Somebody give her some whiskey, get her boozed-up.
As I was saying: Many of you have lost loved ones to the demonic monsters, literally seen them torn limb-from-limb by a prehistoric thing, or pecked in the face repeatedly by a Hitchcock bird, what-have-you. That is a horror that I can only hope not to imagine because, thankfully, all my loved ones live someplace far, far away.
Anyway, listen: If you happen to be one of the unfortunate souls who witnessed a loved one, or several loved ones, brutally killed by a creature that should not exist in a world created by a supposedly perfect being, the only remedy for you is vengeance. People, we need to launch a counter-attack. A murdered loved one whom you fail to avenge has every right to be disappointed in you when you meet again in Heaven, or possibly Hell.
Whoa, whoa! Hush up, prayer circle. Vengeance first, repentance later. Jesus, there's nothing like a little mention of the afterlife to get the religious nuts worked into a frenzy. There'll be plenty of time for praying after we've slaughtered a couple hundred of those ghoulish sons-of-bitches. Praying might save your soul, but it won't save your ass.
All right, then. Back to the counter-attack plan. I think there's a reason why all 14 of us fled the city to get away from those beasts and gathered inside this old fireworks stand by the highway. Hell, maybe God planned it this way. He might be looking down at us now, saying, "Okay. There's my team of ass-kickers. They're gonna defeat the demon creatures and then get to making babies to rebuild civilization, for it is my will."
And do you know what else? God blessed us with some weapons here. I have in my right hand an M-80 firecracker. In my left hand, a Roman Candle. We've got two boxes full of ammunition, too. Also, I have six lighters in my possession because I've been getting high constantly ever since I realized the end of the world is looming.
The time has come for the group to divide into two sects. Those of you who want to shoot Roman Candles alongside of me, you can come on up here and give your leader a high-five. The rest of you can just go right ahead praying to the same God that did this to us--no offense--or continue waiting for the grief counselor somebody called to finally show up. But keep in mind, on the odd chance the grief counselor is still alive, the man has got to have a very hectic work schedule.
Hey, that's what I'm talking about. Yes! (High-Five!) The lone wolf is alone no longer. You too? Excellent. (High-Five!) The rebellion's army is growing. Here, have a couple tokes on me, guys.
Ahem. Well, it appears that sides have been chosen. I'd like to thank and congratulate you guys for being my soldiers. Both of you.
Okay men, here's the thing to keep in mind: the enemy has dents in its armor. Vampires are nocturnal creatures. They sleep during the day. Do you two realize what that means? It means that during daylight hours we only have to contest with the zombies, the prehistoric things, and the Hitchcock birds. During the daytime, it's basically like three-on-three. You versus the zombies, other guy can handle the prehistoric things, and, by process of elimination, I'll be plugging my trusty Roman Candles up the asses of the Hitchcock birds.
We have about eight hours until daylight. Until then we need to carve up a bunch of wooden stakes. We can use the scrap lumber in the storage room and the Swiss Army blade Frank the bus driver used to slit his own throat. We'll make our way over to the Wal-mart three miles from here, stock up on guns and supplies, maybe even play Guitar Hero in the electronics department, just to take the edge off. And hey, speaking of taking the edge off, hand me back that--
Oh, shit. Shhh! Everybody hush up. Something's out there. Jesus, what kind of a monstrosity are we dealing with here? Zombie, mutated pterodactyl, or Hitchcock bird...either way, I'm going to blow its fuckin' head off. With a Roman Candle.
Hey, you! Open the door, will ya? This wick is burning like hell.
The power of Christ owns you like a bitch!
Schhhhooook!
Oh, shit. Shit! Does anyone have some aloe lotion to rub on his skin? Hey, don't yell at me. I could hardly see a thing through the thick mist. How was I supposed to know the monster outside was really the stupid grief counselor?
