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23 July 2008 @ 20:37
ART CRAWL!  
Anyone up for trying that whole The Middleman commentfic extravaganza idea again? It's easy. You hit reply, and post a wee story in your comment. It can be a 100 word drabble. It can be a 500 word snippet. Wanna go for 1000? Please do! Anything you like, this is just for fun.

If you haven't played drabble tag or written commentfic before, here was the Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles commentfic extravaganza I hosted in my journal this spring, so you can see how this sort of thing works.

ETA: fixed the scc commentfic link *facepalms*
 
 
 
Trixie: Avatar - Azulatrixalicious on 25th July 2008 07:14 (UTC)
The Zombie Rehabilition Confrontation
Middleman HQ
Five O’Clock (Somewhere)

The Middleman watched the monitor intently, the way a young, oblivious, culinarily-challenged housewife watches Sandra Lee semi-cook, as Wendy paced the room behind him. "Don't you think you should've mentioned this before?"

"Dubby, I'm not sure I know what you mean by 'this.'"

"By 'this' I mean THIS! The reason we've been holed up in here for the last hour staring at the closed-circuit Middlemonitor like a couple of tourists in a German peep-show booth while Ida's out there in the Jolly Fats Weehawkin Temp Agency lobby with her new best friend Russo, the lady zombie who claims to be the world's foremost expert in zombie-rehabilitation."

"How could I have mentioned this before when she's only just now come to our lobby?"

"Don't try to confuse the issue!"

"And what issue would that be, Dubby?" The Middleman took his attention away from the monitor and turned to look at Wendy, whose pacing was beginning to wear a hole in the Middlecarpet.

"Zombie-rehabilitation! The first time we encountered zombies and I didn't want to shoot the traumatized, hospitalized and doped-up bridegroom, you said that the only way to stop a zombie was to completely destroy the brain. Now, this woman walks in - an hour ago - and you send brainless, battery-powered Ida out to greet her and all the while we're just skulking in here, listening in on their conversation about some zombie twelve-step program. However, this woman is not a woman, but a zombie, so we should be destroying her brain, right? What are we waiting for?"

"It's not that simple, Dubby."

"What's not that simple about it? It was exactly that simple last time!"

"Yes. I see what you mean,” The Middleman spoke slowly as he considered all the ways in which this zombie situation was not as simple as the simple zombie situation they had faced previously. “However, last time we were dealing with trout-guzzling zombies, and not actual human-brain-craving, walking, talking, laughing undead."

"She can't be that undead! No yellow eyes, no sharp teeth, no gray skin. Not to mention that she’s walking, talking and laughing instead of shambling, moaning and crying for trout or brains. She's even gotta better suntan than I do!"

"Well, now, that's debatable," The Middleman returned his attention to the Middlemonitor and pointed at the pixilated version of their visitor before turning again to face Wendy. "But you see Dubby, as we've previously learned there are different kinds of zombies. There are zombies created by mad scientists or necromancers bent on world domination and destruction. Other zombies are created after being bitten by previously-zombified persons. Or other types of infected fauna."

"And which kind is she?"

"Mad-scientist generated. Russo there used to be a temp for a genetics company not entirely dissimilar from the gig you were working when we met. Power-hungry lead scientist turned her into a zombie after offering to pay her overtime to participate in one of his after-hours experiments, and she, in turn, ate his brain. Gave that Middleman the slip, and turned up a few months later asking for his help in recruiting clients for her rehabilitation center. He's the one who was killed in a zombie outbreak because he was trying to subdue and capture instead of exterminate."

"[BLEEP.]"

"Darn-tootin', Dubby. And that’s why I didn’t mention it to you then. Okay, yes, there are alternatives, but the brainpanning is the only 100% fool-proof way to end a zombie outbreak before it starts. Russo’s zombie-rehabilitation center is indeed a world-class facility with a day spa, gym, English garden, library and a four-star restaurant specializing in gulai otak and tête de veau. They have a Zagat rating. And I know that all sounds flim-flam-fantastic, but there's simply no empirical proof that a zombie can stay on-the-wagon long-term."
Trixie: Avatar - Azulatrixalicious on 25th July 2008 07:15 (UTC)
The Zombie Rehabilition Confrontation Continuation
"You're entirely correct, Em-squared,” Russo insinuated herself into their conversation as she and Ida entered the room. “There is, as yet, no empirical proof for the sustainability of a zombie diet that consists of precisely zero human brains but we've had great success so far, and not a single one of our graduates has relapsed."

"Sons of Zebedee! How did you get in here?” The Middleman launched himself in front of Wendy, pushing her behind him. “Dubby, stay behind me. This could get messy"

"Oh, relax, woodja? You're wound tighter than a Chihuahua on diet pills. Russo’s here as a potential client, and she’s about as interested in eating your brains as Brad Pitt is in leaving Angelina Jolie for your hooplehead trainee," Ida dismissively gave Wendy a once-over. “Did you know that one of her graduates is a world-renowned chef?”

“Ida speaks truth. He uses his day job traveling the world to help us come up with new and flavorful ways to prepare the assorted animal brains in our cafeteria."

Wendy bounded past The Middleman’s still-outstretched arm."It's Bourdain, isn't it? I knew something was up with that guy. 80’s-style hard living is one thing, but aging at the speed of light for years and then just not aging at all--"

"Biters-Reformation and Intensive Nourishment Seminar is sensitive to the needs of its members. That our students and graduates desire anonymity is both expected and respected by our staff.”

“So what you’re saying is that you can neither confirm nor deny my allegations of Bourdain-zombification, but that I’m free to speculate, postulate and bloviate?”

Russo failed in her attempt to suppress a grin as she glanced at Ida and said, “I see what you mean about this one. She is a pistol.”

“Ida, you called me a pistol? I knew you would warm up to me sooner or later.”

Ida scoffed, “I didn’t say ‘pistol’ I said ‘pis—’”

“Let’s just nevermind that, shall we?” The Middleman quickly interrupted Ida, and focused his attention on Russo. “Ida said that you’ve come here as a potential client. You know that we’re not in the business of recruiting potential twelve-steppers for your organization anymore.”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten, but that’s not why I’m here. I guess you could say I’ve got an exotic problem.”