Mette got out her gun and shot the zombie right in the forehead with her 5-87.
“Dayum,” she said, blowing the smoke out gently from the gun. The crushed zombie skulls were splattered all over her boots.
“He was attractive as well.”
She looked up into the hazy atmosphere, past the blown out brains, into the sky. The moon was round and shining in the sky. The light coming off from the round shape was affecting the rest air around. The moon spun around.
“I’m the Moon,” it said, smiling.
“Hm”, Mette said. “Your teeth don’t seem as white against his chalky round face.”
“Hey!” the Moon shouted, “The Moon don’t have no dentist.”
“Don’t planets get free health care?” Mette said, kerfuffled.
“I’m not a fucking planet! I’m a satellite you knob. Didn’t you ever go to school?”
Mette looked down ashamed. “I have the mind of a 4-6 year old.”
The Moon tutted, rolled his eyes even. “Retard,” he said, while rolling around.
Mette looked into the horizon to find a wandering stranger, stumbling towards her in the desert setting.
“Oh hey, it’s Old Gregg,” Mette laughed. “HEY Old Gregg! WHAT’S UP?”
It took a few seconds for it to sink in his old brain. He finally spoke from the distance.
“I’M OLD GREGGGG.”
Mette chuckled. “Yes you are.”
When Old Gregg (finally) came to Mette, he continued to say “I’M OLD GREGG”, about 87 times during casual conversation.
“So why are you stumbling, Gregg?”
“I’m OLD GREGG.”
“This is a desert for goddsake, no place for a sea monster.”
“I’M OLD GREGG!”
“Did you bring The Funk?”
“I’ve got a Mangina!”
This carried on for approximately 40 minutes. The conversation got broken up by a masked villain, named ‘The Hitcher’. His mask was a simple polo mint taped to his left eye. He got out his knife.
“Hey, what the hell man?” Mette said, getting out her gun.
The Hitcher got closer and closer towards Mette and Old Gregg and the closer he got, the more alert she was.
“EELS,” The Hitcher said.
Mette put her gun down. “Excuse me?”
“Eels?” The Hitcher said, casually.
“What?” Mette said, confused.
“Boring through your mouth, through your tummy..”
“Why would you even say that?” Mette said, annoyed.
“Hey, Mette?” Old Gregg said. The Hitcher turned to him with his knife.
“Have you ever drunk Baileys from a shoe?”
