Disappointment. That would be the first word that came to mind when the door opened. When the man said he collected war memorabilia, I was expecting guns and armor. In reality, the man had collected some army folding shovels, uniforms from different eras, and a few guns, without ammo. “We can use the bayonets to stab them” the man said. With that statement, Quinn ran out of the basement up the stairs. Quinn is 6’1, brown hair, chestnut brown eyes, and he has the temper of a 2 year old boy who didn’t get candy in the supermarket line. I had assumed that Quinn was so pissed off at this guy that he wanted to get out of the room with him. “Well, you go upstairs with your bayonet and I’ll stay here in the basement with my baseball bat,” I suggested. “Why don’t we stick together?” the man asked nervously. I thought about it, not very hard, because I thought it would be better to have eyes on all levels so we wouldn’t be surprised. “Nah, go upstairs, find Quinn, and tell him to take the top level” I ordered. “Alright,” he sighed, “good luck…” I took a stroll around the basement, looking for things I could use as a weapon, and found some wasp spray by the door. “This just might work” I thought to myself. I chuckled at the thought that I really was living a dream scenario. Then I heard the scream from upstairs.
It wasn’t a blood curdling scream, but more like the scream of a man seeing a mouse run by him. I thought I would check it out, but I was cautious at the same time. I tiptoed up the stairs, and peered around the edge. There was a puddle forming on the floor, dripping from something hanging in the air. It looked like a bowling ball bag and somebody was holding it by the handle as though admiring it. Getting my spray ready, I jumped from behind the corner and yelled, “This is battery acid, you slime!” Serena would be proud, she had been teaching me crappy movie quotes for sometime and I had finally succeeded in a situation that required one. Quinn didn’t think it was that funny and dropped what he was holding and starting scratching at his eyes. I looked down at my feet and saw a pair of eyes looking up at me. They looked like red glazed marbles. I immediately started to throw up. The man got us back to reality by shouting, “Hey idiots! Help me close this door!” I looked over to see the man struggling to push the door close because three or four arms were fighting to get in. I went over to help push the door back but to no prevail. “Quinn! Help us, quit being a puss!” I yelled. He glared at me. Then I saw what he had used to chop the zombie’s head off, it was glorious! Pulling it from a sheath, the sword shimmered in the moonlight. It was about four feet long from the tip to the butt of the handle. Quinn smiled at me when he saw my admiring looks and swung down at the arms; they sliced through them like they were carrots in one of those TV ads for Ginsu knives. The blood sprayed all over the man’s face and body which would of caused me to throw up again, but I think I ran out of contents in my stomach. This was real and I didn’t like it.
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