Fifty Shades Of Sparkling Vampires With Dragon Tattoos That Play Starvation Games by Lacy Maran Page B
Authors: Lacy Maran
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instead met by Samantha Burns, his onset crush and fellow
put upon grunt. Maybe it was the Universe's way of finally throwing
Jim a romantic bone. Giving Jim the chance to tell her how he felt
about her. Expressing his long simmering feelings. So as Samantha
sat at the production desk with her back turned to him, Jim tried
to take precedence over her paperwork.
"Samantha, I've been meaning to tell
you this for a while now," Jim stammered, his hands sweating as his
stomach turned. "But I just can't stop thinking about you lately.
You're the only thing in this wacked out town that makes me happy.
I find myself constantly looking forward to the next time I get to
see you. And I was just wondering if you felt the same
way."
There, Jim had finally done it. He'd
put his feelings on the line. And Samantha took immediate notice.
But as the dirty blonde beauty turned around in her chair, Jim did
not get the reaction he had hoped for.
Instead of the sweet and smart woman
he'd worked alongside, a brain-thirsty Zombie stared Jim down.
Zombie Samantha was rabid and ravaged, a bloody mess with cold dead
eyes.
Jim was slack-jawed and paralyzed with
fear. When Jim dreamed about Samantha craving him, that wasn't what
he had in mind. Jim slowly back tracked like he had stumbled upon
an angry wolf in the wild. But Zombie Samantha wasn't about to back
down. She had fresh meat in her sights and lunged at Jim to get
it.
Jim narrowly avoided the advances of
his undead would be girlfriend, but tripped over a box of props in
the process. Jim fell to the ground with a thud and couldn't get up
fast enough to avoid Samantha's second toothy attack.
Round two wasn't as kind to Jim. Zombie
Samantha's teeth tore into Jim's thigh while he tried to get up,
leaving him wincing. But even with the excruciating pain, Jim
managed to shove Samantha off him and get to his feet.
But the damage had been done and Zombie
Samantha wanted to finish the job. She bared her teeth again, then
made a third attempt, lunging straight at Jim's head. Jim was
prepared though, grabbing the flat panel computer monitor from the
desk and slamming her in the head with it.
The blow sent Zombie Samantha to the
ground, but Jim could tell he'd only stunned her. Jim hobbled to
the door with his leg on fire with pain, and ducked out of the
production office.
The problem with being a lowly
production bitch was that you were the first person on the studio
lot. Which meant Jim was alone with his bite wound trying to hobble
to safety. But it only took a few excruciating feet to realize Jim
was in a hurry to get nowhere.
He was in too much pain to even make it
to the adjacent sound stage. Instead he just collapsed to the
ground, bitten and beaten, rejected in the most rabid way possible.
So much for a love connection. The woman of Jim's dreams was
instead the dagger in the heart of Jim's forgettable
life.
And as the Zombie virus hijacked Jim's
body, he spent the final moments of his life thinking what an
ironic little bitch Hollywood was. After all, Jim had come to
Tinsel town to become a big star, and he was going to die a coffee
bitch.
Jim finally bled out on the pavement in
front of Soundstage 42. But while Jim was a nobody in life, death
brought all new horrifying possibilities. Zombie Jim wasn't the
same guy that came to Hollywood from Vermont with a heart on his
sleeve short film about “the value of love and doing the right
thing” only to be roundly ignored by boob and box office obsessed
producers. Zombie Jim was a mindless, hollow, check your soul at
the door killer. Finally, someone Hollywood could relate
to.
With fresh meat on his mind, Jim
spotted just the right putz. A hundred thousand dollar eyesore
zoomed onto the lot and sped into a custom parking space. It was a
gaudy bright yellow abomination. The kind of sports car dickless
wonders bought to make up for the sawed off stubs between their
legs.
Terry Shuckster was the classic pecker
head. A nebbish nerd that reeked
put upon grunt. Maybe it was the Universe's way of finally throwing
Jim a romantic bone. Giving Jim the chance to tell her how he felt
about her. Expressing his long simmering feelings. So as Samantha
sat at the production desk with her back turned to him, Jim tried
to take precedence over her paperwork.
"Samantha, I've been meaning to tell
you this for a while now," Jim stammered, his hands sweating as his
stomach turned. "But I just can't stop thinking about you lately.
You're the only thing in this wacked out town that makes me happy.
I find myself constantly looking forward to the next time I get to
see you. And I was just wondering if you felt the same
way."
There, Jim had finally done it. He'd
put his feelings on the line. And Samantha took immediate notice.
But as the dirty blonde beauty turned around in her chair, Jim did
not get the reaction he had hoped for.
Instead of the sweet and smart woman
he'd worked alongside, a brain-thirsty Zombie stared Jim down.
Zombie Samantha was rabid and ravaged, a bloody mess with cold dead
eyes.
Jim was slack-jawed and paralyzed with
fear. When Jim dreamed about Samantha craving him, that wasn't what
he had in mind. Jim slowly back tracked like he had stumbled upon
an angry wolf in the wild. But Zombie Samantha wasn't about to back
down. She had fresh meat in her sights and lunged at Jim to get
it.
Jim narrowly avoided the advances of
his undead would be girlfriend, but tripped over a box of props in
the process. Jim fell to the ground with a thud and couldn't get up
fast enough to avoid Samantha's second toothy attack.
Round two wasn't as kind to Jim. Zombie
Samantha's teeth tore into Jim's thigh while he tried to get up,
leaving him wincing. But even with the excruciating pain, Jim
managed to shove Samantha off him and get to his feet.
But the damage had been done and Zombie
Samantha wanted to finish the job. She bared her teeth again, then
made a third attempt, lunging straight at Jim's head. Jim was
prepared though, grabbing the flat panel computer monitor from the
desk and slamming her in the head with it.
The blow sent Zombie Samantha to the
ground, but Jim could tell he'd only stunned her. Jim hobbled to
the door with his leg on fire with pain, and ducked out of the
production office.
The problem with being a lowly
production bitch was that you were the first person on the studio
lot. Which meant Jim was alone with his bite wound trying to hobble
to safety. But it only took a few excruciating feet to realize Jim
was in a hurry to get nowhere.
He was in too much pain to even make it
to the adjacent sound stage. Instead he just collapsed to the
ground, bitten and beaten, rejected in the most rabid way possible.
So much for a love connection. The woman of Jim's dreams was
instead the dagger in the heart of Jim's forgettable
life.
And as the Zombie virus hijacked Jim's
body, he spent the final moments of his life thinking what an
ironic little bitch Hollywood was. After all, Jim had come to
Tinsel town to become a big star, and he was going to die a coffee
bitch.
Jim finally bled out on the pavement in
front of Soundstage 42. But while Jim was a nobody in life, death
brought all new horrifying possibilities. Zombie Jim wasn't the
same guy that came to Hollywood from Vermont with a heart on his
sleeve short film about “the value of love and doing the right
thing” only to be roundly ignored by boob and box office obsessed
producers. Zombie Jim was a mindless, hollow, check your soul at
the door killer. Finally, someone Hollywood could relate
to.
With fresh meat on his mind, Jim
spotted just the right putz. A hundred thousand dollar eyesore
zoomed onto the lot and sped into a custom parking space. It was a
gaudy bright yellow abomination. The kind of sports car dickless
wonders bought to make up for the sawed off stubs between their
legs.
Terry Shuckster was the classic pecker
head. A nebbish nerd that reeked
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