Zombies and kings have something in common – the most popular way to kill them is to cut off their heads.
Zombies are not, and will not be, the only fictional (you hope) creatures to have made it from the pages of pulp fiction to the big screen. For your delectation, I’m now going to speculate on the next big thing to topple zombies from their throne, in the kingdom of schlock horror. Follow my words closely if you want to get in on the ground floor.
Here is my blue sky thinking about the spiritual successors to the zombie:
- Upwardly Mobile Downtrodden. I’m sitting in the M&S cafe watching a girl who is clearing tables and wiping them down. I swear that sometimes, I see something nefarious glittering in the back of her eye. Some slight glint of malice lies beneath layers of training in subservience. I do hope I’m out of here before it happens, but am I seeing the first signs of the Rise of the Downtrodden! Oh no – she’s looking this way – how could she know?!
- Silver Slashers. I’m watching this old geezer out of the corner of my eye. He’s rotund and slouchy, but that means nothing. Sitting at the next table he seems to be contentedly sipping his coffee and tapping his knee in time to the Dolly Parton song playing on … Oh, wait, he’s up and moving! He’s walking towards me and … I’m sure there was a knife on his table a moment ago. Where is it now?!
- Revenge of the Juicy Bits. When I bought the bottle of orange juice on the table in front of me I was very careful with my choice. I read this morning of a secret government scheme to weaponise this innocent-seeming liquid. It involves sentient nanotechnology hidden in … yes, you guessed it – the juicy bits! They claim that it’s in the interests of national security, but we all know that things like this always go horribly wrong! If you don’t believe me, you can look it up yourself at http://www.ijustthoughtupthisconspiracytheoryforalaugh.com.
As I glanced in the mirror just now I noticed a rope ladder hanging out of an open hatch on the side of my head. Running my fingers over over the hole I came across a piece of paper, thumb tacked to my skull, with the following writing:
Dear Robert, I’ve decided to take a break. You don’t need me at all. Let me know when you’ve done wasting your time on these crackpot theories. Kind regards – Your Brain.
And as I look up, I notice an old bloke slipping into the loo, hand in hand with the table wiper girl. She’s holding a bottle of orange juice and … what’s that grey, spongy looking object in his hand?
Excuse me, I have something I need to do …