Post by Zane Norrison on Dec 31, 2018 16:30:31 GMT -8
The Slow Roast. Best cup of coffee in Manhattan and my favorite place to get a fix of caffeine, on the way to work in the morning. Today, I'm making an exception, by hitting the place up twice, for Steve Sayors' sake. He still wanted to interview me, admitting that he overreacted when he freaked out, after learning I'm really a zombie that needs to eat brains. So the least that I could do was take my break and bring him to a location, that was far from dead. The shop was active with life, yet not obnoxious or overbearing by being insanely overcrowded, it was just right. Perfect for an interview and after we got our coffee, we found a table and sat down as he retrieved his tape recorder and readied for our Q&A session. Taking a sip of coffee, I sat back and waited patiently for Steve, to return to the zone, to get his reporter "mind train" back on track, as it were. When I seen the perplexed look on his face, I knew something awkward was coming.
"I have to ask you something. It's kind of strange."
Holding back a laugh, I simply engaged him with a kind of polite amusement.
"You don't say. Well, ask away."
"You're drinking coffee."
"Very observant. I am. And?"
"You eat food? Besides brains? You mix brains in with other, normal human cuisine, correct?"
I suddenly became aware that we were in a public place and how bringing a man that was going to interview me for the XWF, might not have been the best idea. What with me being a zombie and all. That wrestles. So there would be questions pertaining to those combined topics. Asked in a coffee house. With people all around. Images of pitch forks and torches came to mind. Guns. With their sights set on my skull. Suddenly I was the nervous one. This brought a laugh out as I scooted my chair in towards the table, looking around a bit to see how close other people were, before I leaned in a tad and mentally prepared myself for what could possibly come next. There were many roads this question could take me down.
"Yes. That's correct. Why do you ask?"
"I was wondering how you could do that, eat and drink, without... you know, digesting the items that you consume."
Snickering, I covered my face briefly with my hand, I knew what he was getting at.
"Yes, Steve. My body processes food and I use the bathroom."
"Oh. How?"
"Like everyone else..."
"I assume that, I merely ask this because you're not considered to be truly alive, you don't have a pulse. That more than likely means that you don't have a heart beat, right?"
"Right. No heart beat. I also don't breathe but I can inhale and exhale, if I wanted to do that. Say if I were smoking a cigarette."
"Well, how do you digest food if your organs don't function or need to work for you to be alive, animate... reanimated?"
"You can say alive. Zombies are the living dead after all."
So many people around. I was just going to have to rip the band-aid off and go for it, tell him everything and hope for the best. I could always say I was rehearsing for a play, right? A play about zombies, where I'm playing the part of a guy who knows stuff about being a zombie, because I am one. Crap. This was never going to work and all it takes is one, hyped up nut, with an overactive imagination, listening in and I'm screwed. Good thing I brought Steve to a coffee shop. Where people are drinking tons of caffeinated beverages and writing on laptops. Some of them may even be logged into creative writing sites, where they have to make up characters, so they need to have working minds and an imagination.
Awww... damn it. I was getting myself anxious and all worked up, and for what? What did that accomplish? Nothing. No, I knew what I had to do. I needed to remain calm. Chill. Taking a deep breath I sat back and decided that I wasn't going to think of the worst case scenario, I would act as I always used to do and still do; for the most part anyway, since becoming a card carrying member of the undead. Laid back and completely mellow. If someone overhears and asks, I'll laugh and go along with it like this whole thing is a farce, complete make believe and I'm simply playing a role. I'm not really a zombie. No, no, I don't eat brains for real. This is an act that I'm putting on for Steve Sayors, the reporter for the XWF. The place where I wrestle for your and my entertainment. Do you want an autograph? Good plan, Zane. You've got this.
"I'm not sure how it all works, Steve. Why certain things in my body function, while others don't. I can sleep, my dick works, I can talk and think. But at the same time, I could probably fall to the bottom of the ocean and be fine, for days. Years even. My lungs might fill up with water and I'd turn feral but I wouldn't drown cause I wouldn't be breathing. This stuff is all touch and go though. I had to learn it all on my own, I didn't exactly get a manual when I was turned into a zombie. Nor did I ask to become one. I was kidnapped and experimented on by med school students, who watched way too many horror films and wanted to create an undead monster. They succeeded and here I am. Happy, with the fact that at least I can do some normal, regular guy things because it really, makes the other stuff, a lot easier to cope with. I eat brains and yes, there are ways that I could infect someone, thus starting the zombie apocalypse but I can also have a nice conversation with a reporter, casually over coffee, much like anyone else could. I'm a zombie but as long as I manage my condition, there's nothing forcing me to act like the ones in the movies, comics and tv-shows. At least I can control what I am and carry on in society. Enjoying all the liberties and freedoms that humans do. It's all about silver linings, Steve. The positive rather than the negative."
Sayors nodded as he seemed to contemplate my words.
"Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, I was just curious. You're the first zombie that I've interviewed."
"It's all good. I'm not offended. We should probably get in some material for this interview that pertains to my match against Azrael though."
"Oh, right. Of course. What are your thoughts on the upcoming match with Azrael Erebus?"
"Honestly, Steve. I can't wait. You know, it was my suggestion. This match. I challenged him. I'm just happy that my friend agreed to take part."
"Friend?"
"Without his help, I wouldn't be here right now. I owe him my afterlife. All he asked for was a single favor, to be collected at any time, no questions asked."
"I see where this is going, you plan to let him win and then when the fatal four way comes around, you'll basically hand the title over to him. You'll let him win. Cause the Hart title is one of the two titles that he has yet to obtain."
"What??? I would never do such a thing! Nor would he ever want me to! He would be insulted if I didn't put up a real fight. Title or no title. Besides, he already claimed that favor from me, when he needed to help Griffin MacAlister sever ties from some sort of evil organization called The Order. They thought he was dead and came snooping around the morgue that I work at, looking to collect the body. I called Azrael when that happened, like he requested. Griffin and Azrael showed up and confronted the men. Then this guy named Maxwell Maximus, came along and they talked, Azrael threatened him and things seemed like they were settled. Or so I thought. Have you watched Azrael's promos? I think he might be captured by that guy or worse. In his first promo, he actually said if people were watching it, that meant he was dead. You're worried about foul play, I'm concerned for Azrael's safety. Will the match even take place? He said that he took steps to ensure that things would work out. That he was both alive and dead because there would be another version of himself roaming about. Does that mean I'm going to fight whoever that is or what? What exactly is going to happen?"
"I don't know. Admittedly, I simply took Azrael's promos as a lark, not at all anything serious."
"Are you kidding me right now? A lark? I'm sorry. That's terrible. Azrael Erebus could be in real danger. He could be dead. No one cares or takes the situation seriously. All they're concerned about is superficial bullshit. Titles. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy wielding the Hart title but my friend, could be in trouble and that takes precedent."
"I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you."
"It's alright. It's your job to be objective and ask questions, for the purpose of the audience getting to hear the answers. In truth, I'm angry at myself. He laid it out real easy. Like he set this plan into motion, weeks ago. That if he died, his replacement would be known and yet, I can't seem to figure out who it might be. To make matters worse, he set in place some sort of precaution, so that this individual won't know who they really are, until their memory is triggered somehow. The whole thing sounds crazy. How is anyone going to do that, if they don't know who they're supposed to find? He said that he had it worked out though, so I'm going to trust him and prepare myself for our fight. Whether it's with the Azrael I know or someone new, that's a version of him that hasn't become fully aware of the truth, I'll be ready. And no, Steve. I won't hold back. Either way, I'm bringing everything that I've got to that ring because not only is it what Azrael would want, it's what I would want, as well. I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror anymore, if I threw a fight or held back. There's no honor or respect in that and I won't do it. Not now, not ever."
"You can look at yourself in the mirror? You have a reflection?"
It was so absurd, it was funny and forced the laughter, right out of me.
"I'm a zombie. Not a vampire."
I felt my phone vibrate suddenly but when I looked at it, I didn't recognize the number. Shrugging, I decided to answer anyway. You never know, the call could be important.
"I have to ask you something. It's kind of strange."
Holding back a laugh, I simply engaged him with a kind of polite amusement.
"You don't say. Well, ask away."
"You're drinking coffee."
"Very observant. I am. And?"
"You eat food? Besides brains? You mix brains in with other, normal human cuisine, correct?"
I suddenly became aware that we were in a public place and how bringing a man that was going to interview me for the XWF, might not have been the best idea. What with me being a zombie and all. That wrestles. So there would be questions pertaining to those combined topics. Asked in a coffee house. With people all around. Images of pitch forks and torches came to mind. Guns. With their sights set on my skull. Suddenly I was the nervous one. This brought a laugh out as I scooted my chair in towards the table, looking around a bit to see how close other people were, before I leaned in a tad and mentally prepared myself for what could possibly come next. There were many roads this question could take me down.
"Yes. That's correct. Why do you ask?"
"I was wondering how you could do that, eat and drink, without... you know, digesting the items that you consume."
Snickering, I covered my face briefly with my hand, I knew what he was getting at.
"Yes, Steve. My body processes food and I use the bathroom."
"Oh. How?"
"Like everyone else..."
"I assume that, I merely ask this because you're not considered to be truly alive, you don't have a pulse. That more than likely means that you don't have a heart beat, right?"
"Right. No heart beat. I also don't breathe but I can inhale and exhale, if I wanted to do that. Say if I were smoking a cigarette."
"Well, how do you digest food if your organs don't function or need to work for you to be alive, animate... reanimated?"
"You can say alive. Zombies are the living dead after all."
So many people around. I was just going to have to rip the band-aid off and go for it, tell him everything and hope for the best. I could always say I was rehearsing for a play, right? A play about zombies, where I'm playing the part of a guy who knows stuff about being a zombie, because I am one. Crap. This was never going to work and all it takes is one, hyped up nut, with an overactive imagination, listening in and I'm screwed. Good thing I brought Steve to a coffee shop. Where people are drinking tons of caffeinated beverages and writing on laptops. Some of them may even be logged into creative writing sites, where they have to make up characters, so they need to have working minds and an imagination.
Awww... damn it. I was getting myself anxious and all worked up, and for what? What did that accomplish? Nothing. No, I knew what I had to do. I needed to remain calm. Chill. Taking a deep breath I sat back and decided that I wasn't going to think of the worst case scenario, I would act as I always used to do and still do; for the most part anyway, since becoming a card carrying member of the undead. Laid back and completely mellow. If someone overhears and asks, I'll laugh and go along with it like this whole thing is a farce, complete make believe and I'm simply playing a role. I'm not really a zombie. No, no, I don't eat brains for real. This is an act that I'm putting on for Steve Sayors, the reporter for the XWF. The place where I wrestle for your and my entertainment. Do you want an autograph? Good plan, Zane. You've got this.
"I'm not sure how it all works, Steve. Why certain things in my body function, while others don't. I can sleep, my dick works, I can talk and think. But at the same time, I could probably fall to the bottom of the ocean and be fine, for days. Years even. My lungs might fill up with water and I'd turn feral but I wouldn't drown cause I wouldn't be breathing. This stuff is all touch and go though. I had to learn it all on my own, I didn't exactly get a manual when I was turned into a zombie. Nor did I ask to become one. I was kidnapped and experimented on by med school students, who watched way too many horror films and wanted to create an undead monster. They succeeded and here I am. Happy, with the fact that at least I can do some normal, regular guy things because it really, makes the other stuff, a lot easier to cope with. I eat brains and yes, there are ways that I could infect someone, thus starting the zombie apocalypse but I can also have a nice conversation with a reporter, casually over coffee, much like anyone else could. I'm a zombie but as long as I manage my condition, there's nothing forcing me to act like the ones in the movies, comics and tv-shows. At least I can control what I am and carry on in society. Enjoying all the liberties and freedoms that humans do. It's all about silver linings, Steve. The positive rather than the negative."
Sayors nodded as he seemed to contemplate my words.
"Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, I was just curious. You're the first zombie that I've interviewed."
"It's all good. I'm not offended. We should probably get in some material for this interview that pertains to my match against Azrael though."
"Oh, right. Of course. What are your thoughts on the upcoming match with Azrael Erebus?"
"Honestly, Steve. I can't wait. You know, it was my suggestion. This match. I challenged him. I'm just happy that my friend agreed to take part."
"Friend?"
"Without his help, I wouldn't be here right now. I owe him my afterlife. All he asked for was a single favor, to be collected at any time, no questions asked."
"I see where this is going, you plan to let him win and then when the fatal four way comes around, you'll basically hand the title over to him. You'll let him win. Cause the Hart title is one of the two titles that he has yet to obtain."
"What??? I would never do such a thing! Nor would he ever want me to! He would be insulted if I didn't put up a real fight. Title or no title. Besides, he already claimed that favor from me, when he needed to help Griffin MacAlister sever ties from some sort of evil organization called The Order. They thought he was dead and came snooping around the morgue that I work at, looking to collect the body. I called Azrael when that happened, like he requested. Griffin and Azrael showed up and confronted the men. Then this guy named Maxwell Maximus, came along and they talked, Azrael threatened him and things seemed like they were settled. Or so I thought. Have you watched Azrael's promos? I think he might be captured by that guy or worse. In his first promo, he actually said if people were watching it, that meant he was dead. You're worried about foul play, I'm concerned for Azrael's safety. Will the match even take place? He said that he took steps to ensure that things would work out. That he was both alive and dead because there would be another version of himself roaming about. Does that mean I'm going to fight whoever that is or what? What exactly is going to happen?"
"I don't know. Admittedly, I simply took Azrael's promos as a lark, not at all anything serious."
"Are you kidding me right now? A lark? I'm sorry. That's terrible. Azrael Erebus could be in real danger. He could be dead. No one cares or takes the situation seriously. All they're concerned about is superficial bullshit. Titles. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy wielding the Hart title but my friend, could be in trouble and that takes precedent."
"I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you."
"It's alright. It's your job to be objective and ask questions, for the purpose of the audience getting to hear the answers. In truth, I'm angry at myself. He laid it out real easy. Like he set this plan into motion, weeks ago. That if he died, his replacement would be known and yet, I can't seem to figure out who it might be. To make matters worse, he set in place some sort of precaution, so that this individual won't know who they really are, until their memory is triggered somehow. The whole thing sounds crazy. How is anyone going to do that, if they don't know who they're supposed to find? He said that he had it worked out though, so I'm going to trust him and prepare myself for our fight. Whether it's with the Azrael I know or someone new, that's a version of him that hasn't become fully aware of the truth, I'll be ready. And no, Steve. I won't hold back. Either way, I'm bringing everything that I've got to that ring because not only is it what Azrael would want, it's what I would want, as well. I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror anymore, if I threw a fight or held back. There's no honor or respect in that and I won't do it. Not now, not ever."
"You can look at yourself in the mirror? You have a reflection?"
It was so absurd, it was funny and forced the laughter, right out of me.
"I'm a zombie. Not a vampire."
I felt my phone vibrate suddenly but when I looked at it, I didn't recognize the number. Shrugging, I decided to answer anyway. You never know, the call could be important.