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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 13, 2010 19:17:08 GMT -7
"I dunno, man. This place seems rather, pardon the pun, dead."
"I hear that." Joe said before his eyes caught a house with an open garage. He pulled into the driveway, and into the garage.
"Here we go." Joe said as he placed the J-10 in the parked gear. He switched off the ignition and climbed out of the truck, looking in the bed to see if any zombies had sneaked in. Nothing. He checked under the truck. It wouldn't be the first time. Nothing as well. He checked all around the Jeep and found no trace of zombies. Satisfied, he walked over to the door controls, and closed the garage door. He pulled out a Glock as he switched on the lights. He found the door and motioned Mike to follow him.
"Come on. Let's check." Joe said as he opened the door.
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Post by Zeno on Apr 14, 2010 8:41:35 GMT -7
"Come on. Let's check."
Mike stretched as he followed his companion, upholstering a .44. This was annoying, in his opinion. They could just seal the door, and sleep in the bed of the car.
"Why can't we just sleep in the car?" He asked as he looked around the hallway they stepped into. "There's less risk of running into a zombie in there."
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 14, 2010 18:55:46 GMT -7
"Because, Mike, I don't really like sleeping in a truck. It, quite frankly, is the most annoying thing I have ever done. Now, I'd rather sleep in a nice, soft bed, with some nice warm food in the morning, and a place where we can find some gas."
Joe looked around the room they entered. It was a fairly average house, with tan paint. This room seemed to be the living room, and not a zombie was in sight. But Joe wasn't sure about the rest of the house yet.
"You check down here. I'll check upstairs." Joe said, taking out his butterfly knife. He headed up the stairs, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.
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Post by Zeno on Apr 14, 2010 19:01:01 GMT -7
"You check down here. I'll check upstairs."
Mike nodded as Joe walked away. He took out a spray can and drew his crest on the wall, before walking off, into the kitchen with unsheathing one of his ninja-to.
He tried the light switch and found, to his surprise, that it worked. Not a zombie in sight, and a very shiny sink. Mike slowly walked over to the refridgerator and leaned against it, coming up with an easy way to find out if there were any zombies there.
So, without further ado, he let out a sharp whistle. Waiting for a good 45 seconds, he came to the conclusion that no, there were no zombies on the bottom floor. So, without anything distracting him, he started searching through the cabinets.
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 14, 2010 19:06:08 GMT -7
Joe jumped at the sharp whistle that Mike made, nearly scaring him half to death. He shook his head and looked down the hall that he was in. Nothing. Not the groaning of a zombie, not a confirmation of a survivor. The house was empty. Joe half smiled as he stepped down the stairs.
"What do we have, Master Chef?" Joe asked as he entered the kitchen.
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Post by Zeno on Apr 14, 2010 19:09:56 GMT -7
"What do we have, Master Chef?"
"Something special," Mike said as he took out what he'd found in the cabinets, showing them to his partner. "Baking powder, Doritos, and..." he trailed off as he set the items down, reaching into the cabinet once more, taking out a bag filled with a green material that looked suspiciously like oregano.
"...a shitload of pot," he finished with a huge grin on his face.
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 14, 2010 19:18:12 GMT -7
Joe's eyes widened. He looked around the house.
"No wonder this is such a nice house! This dude was a drug dealer!" Joe said. He raised an eyebrow in thought.
"I wonder he was super baked when he turned?" Joe asked, chuckling at the thought. "He'd be too baked to chase after us."
Joe walked to the fridge and opened the door. He searched through it.
"I found... some milk, some bacon, a few eggs, some vegetables, a couple of steaks, some cheese, a couple large liters of soda, six brewskies, and some fruit. Now, in the freezer, we have..." Joe closed the refrigerator door and opened the freezer. "We have a couple of Digiorno oven pizzas, some burgers, hot dogs, some polish sausage, and a container of meat labeled 'Elk'." Joe pulled out a pizza box from the freezer.
"I feel like pizza tonight, how about you?" Joe asked his friend.
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Post by Zeno on Apr 14, 2010 19:23:45 GMT -7
"I feel like pizza tonight, how about you?"
Mike, who was in the process of rolling a joint the size of a cigar, using the large papers he'd found in the cabinet, shrugged.
"Man, after this baby, I'll feel up for everything in there," he said as he put the massive joint into his mouth, reaching into his pocket and taking out a shiny silver zippo, lighting it and taking a long drag.
He held in the smoke for a while, and then exhaled with a huge smile on his face. "Man, this is the good stuff," he said as he held out the joint to Joe. "My guess is it's Afghanian."
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 14, 2010 19:50:08 GMT -7
Joe put his hand up, refusing the drug. He wanted a clear head during the night. He didn't want any undead guests to come unannounced and him too baked to do anything about it.
"You know what? I'll put the pizza in oven for you. I'm feeling like something with vegetables." Joe took out the pizza and placed it in the oven, setting the temperature at about 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Joe looked back in the freezer and pulled out the Elk. He set the Elk meat on the counter to thaw out while he looked for a skillet. He pulled out a skillet from a cabinet and set it on the stove. He lit the stove and waited for the skillet to heat up. Joe waved his hand in front of his face to dissipate the smoke from Mike's joint.
"Dude, put that out for another day. I'm trying to cook here." Joe said. He pulled the Elk meat out of the package and set it on the now heated skillet. The hissing sound of cooking meat filled the air as Joe reached back into the refrigerator for a few vegetables. He pulled out a carrot, a celery stick, and an onion. He chopped up all three vegetables, and pulled a pot out from a nearby cabinet. He filled the pot with water until it was about halfway full. He placed the pot on the stove and waited for the water to boil. He looked over at Mike.
"Can you look around for some spices? I can't have meat without some kick in it."
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Post by Zeno on Apr 14, 2010 19:55:33 GMT -7
"Dude, put that out for another day. I'm trying to cook here."
"No way, man," Mike said, shaking his head. "This is my sweet reward for surviving an encounter with that Origin zombie," he said as he took another long drag on the joint, holding it in. Then, he leaned over the Elk meat, and blew the smoke at it. "How about that? Baked Elk."
"Can you look around for some spices? I can't have meat without some kick in it."
Mike nodded as he started going through the cabinets, soon finding one packed with spices of all sorts. Taking out one jar in particular, he read the label and started snickering. "Oregano..."
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 12, 2011 22:36:12 GMT -7
Joe paused in his cooking, and looked at Mike strangely before dismissing him and continuing to cook the meal.
"So, what's next, after raiding the rest of this place?" Joe asked, locating the spice rack above the stove. Whoever lived here, he was one organized son of a bitch.
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Post by God Mike on Apr 12, 2011 22:43:36 GMT -7
Feeling buzzed enough, Mike put out the joint and pocketed it, saving it for later as he continued to look around the kitchen. He opened the knife drawer and pulled out a few kitchen knifes. Then, being the reckless man he was, he started juggling three of them, almost cutting himself each time he caught one.
"So, what's next, after raiding the rest of this place?" Mike hummed at that. What would they do? He continued juggling the knives, grunting now and then as he concentrated on catching the knives.
"Next?" he asked, humming once more, keeping his eyes trained on the knives. "I think I wanna go take a leak on the White House. That would be fun."
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 12, 2011 22:54:48 GMT -7
Joe chuckled. Pissing on the White House. The young Irishman was a bit more concerned with what was in the White House. The President was probably a zombie... Cool. He smiled as he cooked the meat. He'd always wanted to assassinate a President.
A ding sounded from the oven, which Joe responded by taking out the pizza and placing it on the counter nearby. Closing the oven door, he returned to his elk.
"Pizza's ready." Joe yelled out, sprinkling a little celery salt on the elk. It was almost ready for the stew, which was boiling by now.
"So, Mike," Joe began, flipping his elk over one last time. "What did you do? Ya know, before all hell broke loose?"
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Post by God Mike on Apr 12, 2011 23:02:12 GMT -7
"Pizza's ready." Mike stopped juggling at that and looked over to Joe, completely forgetting about the two knives that were in the air. The knives dropped to the floor, one of them impaling the floor right next to his foot.
"Woah!" Mike exclaimed, skipping back. "That was close!" he yelled, patting his chest. Then, his eyes landed on the pizza. "Niice," he said as he reached up, unsheathing a ninja-to. Then, he swung, cutting the pizza and the plate it was on in two, also cutting deep into the counter.
"So, Mike," Joe said as Mike grabbed one of the two halves of the pizza, hissing slightly from the heat and 'tossing' it from hand to hand a few times. "What did you do? Ya know, before all hell broke loose?"
"What did I do...?" Mike asked, humming in thought. "About the same things I do now. I just moved from place to place, finding things I liked, doing the things I liked, and moving on. I was just living life one day at a time. What about you, mate?"
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 12, 2011 23:11:19 GMT -7
Joe smiled at the memories.
"I actually came here from Ireland for college." Joe said, smiling fondly. He looked at the elk, and started to pull apart the meat tenderly, as to keep the juices in.
"But the college expelled me for blowing holes in the chemistry lab's walls several times. Then, gunsmith apprentice of Rocko, up in Boston. Four months later, bam, zombies. Killed Rocko's shambling corpse with a prayer, and I was off." His eyes gained a sad quality of them, remembering his adopted father back in Ireland.
"Hey, Mike. You have any family overseas, before the outbreak?" Joe placed the meat into the stew, and added some sea salt that the guy had, before cutting himself a slice of pizza and munching on the memoir of years past. It had been, what, four years since he's had pizza? Damn.
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