The Golden Age of Cinema
By Tres Crow
He sort of expected something like this to happen at some point. I mean, only yesterday he’d bent down to tie his shoe just moments before a piano splattered on the sidewalk in front of him. That had been pretty close, but it still left an ominous feeling in his gut.
There was also that whole embarrassing situation with those guys carrying the big pane of glass across the road. He couldn’t really be blamed, though; they’d come out of nowhere and he’d been distracted by a woman with large bosoms in a leopard-print spandex bodysuit. Leopard-print was sort of his thing. Everyone knows that.
And then there was the time he’d ridden a banana peel down three flights of stairs. The hospital stay had been mercifully short.
All that said, the flaming body still caught him a little off-guard. He was, after-all, in a Wal-Mart parking lot, with a fistful of white plastic bags and fumbling for his car keys. He didn’t really have enough time to think much of anything before the body landed on him, but if he had he probably would have thought, “Just my luck. I didn’t even let Rufus out. He’ll probably piddle all over the rug.”
And he would’ve been right. Rufus did.
- - -
Tres Crow is the world's foremost authority on zombie mating rituals and as such spends most of his time in the field learning human brain recipes. His notes from the field can be found, or are forthcoming, in Ascent Aspirations, Shine Journal, Full of Crow, Conceit, The Foundling Review, as well as the website Metalsucks.net. He can be found online at his blog Dog Eat Crow World (www.dogeatcrow.blogspot.com).
By Tres Crow
He sort of expected something like this to happen at some point. I mean, only yesterday he’d bent down to tie his shoe just moments before a piano splattered on the sidewalk in front of him. That had been pretty close, but it still left an ominous feeling in his gut.
There was also that whole embarrassing situation with those guys carrying the big pane of glass across the road. He couldn’t really be blamed, though; they’d come out of nowhere and he’d been distracted by a woman with large bosoms in a leopard-print spandex bodysuit. Leopard-print was sort of his thing. Everyone knows that.
And then there was the time he’d ridden a banana peel down three flights of stairs. The hospital stay had been mercifully short.
All that said, the flaming body still caught him a little off-guard. He was, after-all, in a Wal-Mart parking lot, with a fistful of white plastic bags and fumbling for his car keys. He didn’t really have enough time to think much of anything before the body landed on him, but if he had he probably would have thought, “Just my luck. I didn’t even let Rufus out. He’ll probably piddle all over the rug.”
And he would’ve been right. Rufus did.
- - -
Tres Crow is the world's foremost authority on zombie mating rituals and as such spends most of his time in the field learning human brain recipes. His notes from the field can be found, or are forthcoming, in Ascent Aspirations, Shine Journal, Full of Crow, Conceit, The Foundling Review, as well as the website Metalsucks.net. He can be found online at his blog Dog Eat Crow World (www.dogeatcrow.blogspot.com).
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