First of all, minions, I must apologize for being absent from the blogosphere recently. I have no excuse. Wait. I have tons of excuses, but all of them are lame. Suffice it to say I just wasn't here. It happens. *shrugs*
Also, apologies are in order to those whose blogs I normally follow religiously and comment on just as often. I had a minor meltdown with Blogger and I'm not pointing any fingers but somehow I couldn't comment on half the blogs. Weird. I'm going to blame Blogger, but there's this little but loud voice in the back of my head that keeps shouting out "Operator Error!" eh. *another shrug* (sidenote to all you fun new followers *waves* I'm not all that technologically savvy...so there's that)
Okay, so a little minute ago (aka: weeks), blogging buddy/office mate/sometime coffee bitch
Tracey posted a little essay on what she'd want people to say about her on her 80th birthday. It since inspired an essay contest that I entered (and placed in the finalist category, I might add...er...not that I'm bragging...well, okay. I'm bragging a little bit...okay...a whole lot).
And since I have no new inspiration for a post today, I thought I'd share my 80th b-day essay with all you fun friends. Nice of me, huh?
**a ‘Breaking News’ bulletin flashes across the screen just seconds before the camera zeroes in on the neatly coiffed anchorwoman stationed behind the news desk**
She clears her throat dramatically. “We’ve just learned that famed adventurer, zombie hunter, unicorn wrangler, and current world record holder for most consecutive terms served as president of the Mr. T fan club, Karla Nellenbach, has passed away.”
A pause as the camera flips to show the infamous picture of Karla standing atop a mound of freshly slaughtered undead, holding up the head of the general of the zombie army, Abraham Lincoln.
“Known throughout the world for her many philanthropic contributions, Karla was most well recognized for her role in ending the last zombie apocalypse, nearly forty years ago. Before then, it was believed that the only thing that could kill a zombie was a bullet shot directly into the brain. But, that last uprising of the undead gave birth to a new, mutant variety of zombie, and the bullets worked no more. It wasn’t until the explosion heard round the world that the new weapon was discovered.”
“Holed up in her house with her two dogs, with ammo dwindling and the horde surrounding her multiplying by the second, she made what she called a last ditch attempt at fighting the zombies off using a concoction closely resembling that of homemade napalm, comprised of equal parts gasoline and orange juice. Later, she credited the soap-making scene from the movie Fight Club with her success in ridding the world of the walking dead.”
The camera zooms back in on the anchorwoman as she shuffles the papers in front of her before staring headlong into the lens.
“Since then, May 24th, Karla’s birthday, has been recognized as a world-wide day of celebration and independence. And each year, her birthday bash is bigger and more raucous than the last. As this was her 80th year on this Earth, her family had decided to promote her many accomplishments over the years with a costume-themed extravaganza.”
Earlier taped footage floods the screen as viewers are treated to a parade of garishly costumed movie stars, politicians, business tycoons, and various other noted celebrities.
“As you can see, many of Karla’s admirers chose to attend the night’s festivities sporting muscle shirts, Mohawks, and heavy gold jewelry, while others donned unicorn costumes. But, the most popular disguise of the evening was that of the zombie, complete with ripped, bloodstained clothing and ghostly pale skin. This, we believe, is where the night went terribly wrong. For more on this breaking story, we go live in the field to correspondent, Mike Hadfield. Mike?”
The screen cuts to live feed of a stone-faced gentleman staring gravely into the camera. Behind him, the decimated, still-burning ruins of a once glorious mansion lay crumbling. Police and emergency service personnel climb through the wreckage, searching for any form of life.
“It’s a grim scene here, Tammy,” he begins. “What began as a night of great celebration has ended in flames and a death toll well into the hundreds. Right now, details are sketchy, but Karla Nellenbach and her family are presumed dead.”
“Do we know what could have possibly caused this explosion?” Tammy’s voice cuts in.
Slowly, reluctantly, he nods. “Well, Tammy, you may recall that early last year, Karla was diagnosed with a very rare, extremely aggressive form of brain cancer. The doctors believe that her days of adventure, hunting unicorns in the wilds of Tibet compounded with the sheer amount of toxic exposure to her homemade napalm which eventually eradicated all of zombie kind contributed to the lesions on her brain. They’d given her only a few months to live, but of course, the tough old broad famously declared that she didn’t plan on dying before her eightieth birthday.”
He pauses, glances over his shoulder at the wreckage.
“According to sources close to the adventurer’s family, Karla’s mental status has been slowly declining of the last several weeks, causing her to experience vivid hallucinations in which she’s relived many of her past exploits. Unfortunately for her guests tonight, the zombie costumes threw her into one such an episode.”
“Oh, my!” Tammy exclaims. “What happened?”
“Well, Tammy, it appears that upon seeing her family and friends turned into the walking dead, Karla, still spry and faster in her walker than even her sixteen year old grandson, hightailed it to the state of the art panic room she had in her basement, which was reportedly stocked with enough napalm to blow the entire North American continent off the map, and proceeded to lock herself in. Before her husband or children could get to her to explain what was going on, she’d armed two of the bombs in her bunker, and well…” he trails off, again shooting a look over his shoulder.
He clears his throat and faces the camera once more. “One lucky survivor, however, claims to have heard Karla shouting through the home’s intercom system—“ he looks down at the note card in his hand. “—and I quote, ‘You’ll never expletive take me alive you expletive undead bastards’ end quote.”
The camera flips back over to Tammy at her anchor desk.
“Well,” she says after a dazed minute. “There you have it. Confirmed reports of famed zombie hunter, Karla Nellenbach, being taken down earlier tonight after she mistakenly believed another zombie apocalypse was on the horizon. For more on this horrific tragedy, tune in to our coverage at eleven where we will take an in depth look at a long, celebrated life that ended in senseless violence and tragedy.”
**Screen fades out and goes to a commercial, featuring a much younger, more mentally stable Karla grinning while drinking a Dr. Pepper, the official soft drink of zombie hunters everywhere.**
okay! so now for the burning question: What do you want people to say about you on your 80th? Inquiring Karlas want to know ;)
