Get Zombie: 8-Book Set (17 page)

Seria cracked her whip. We shut up.

“Take out the picture of the man or woman of your dreams.”

We reached into our pockets and wallets and held out our pictures –
mine of Elaine. Seria nodded in approval.

“
Splendid,” she said.
“Keep it near you at all times. Always remember, you are here
to get THAT person to fall in love with you. Keep exercising. Develop
the mind of the zombie: Be single-minded...eyes on the goal...keep
moving
forward.”

The receptionist opened the glass door. Before Seria walked out, I
raised my hand.

“Madam...why do you care so much about us?”

Seria looked surprised.

“The happier you are, the more money I make.” She
grinned. “Welcome to Sweat Zombies. God bless.”

We all said, “God bless.”

Seria walked out and the receptionist closed the door. We all stood
around, looking back and forth at each other. The room filled with
chatter. A woman, with what I hoped was just white chocolate on her
face, smiled at me.

“I'm so lonely.”

I wanted to smile back, but I
couldn't. I could hear Elaine in my head, whispering,
Don't
you do it, fool. Don't you dare give her your eyes.

There was a crashing sound. We all ran outside. A yellow convertible
had crashed into the front door of the fitness center. The driver was
a nun. She honked her horn over and over.

“Death to The Shallow Center!” the nun shrieked. “Death!
Death! Death!”

Seria jumped on the hood of the car and smashed the windshield with a
sledgehammer. She was shirtless and topless. All her muscles flexed
with each raise of the mighty hammer.

“I've had it with you, Dramatica! Be gone with ye!”

This Dramatica nun person reversed. Seria gave out a scream and flew
backwards into my arms. Dramatica pulled up to us and pointed to me.

“She'll curse you, boy! Be warned! Looks does not a lover
make!”

Seria looked up at me.

“Don't listen to her. She's talking gibberish!”

Dramatica stepped on the gas and bolted out of there just as the cops
appeared in the distance.

Seria stood up. I didn't realize I had my hands over her breasts. I
pulled away, embarrassed. Seria made no mention of it. She raised her
arms and addressed the crowd.

“Nothing to worry about, dearies. Just a disgruntled
ex-customer, is all. Proceed with your exercising.”

I helped pick up pieces of the front door.

“Ex-customer?”

Seria shook her head.

“Dramatica. Yes. She was our first member. She came to me all
gross and muddy and underweight. I transformed her into a beautiful
beast. She got her man. They got married, and then he left her.”

“Why?”

She gave me a worried look.

“I took her pirate.”

“
Excuse me –
pirate
?”

“
She married a pirate. His
name was Capt. Gold Mouth, because he replaced all his teeth with
gold. One day, he came in with his goons – with their swords
and peg legs and peg arms and one eyes and booze jugs labeled with Xs
– and we fell in love.
Made
love on the racquetball court. Ah! The passion! The liquids!”

“Did he have a boat?”

“Oh, indeed. And what a boat it was, my fine feathered fiend.
It flew! Well...floated, more like. Point is, I made hard love on
that hunk of wood so many times. See what I did there? Think about
it.”

“Can I meet him? I find pirates fascinating. They travel the
globe and get into adventures and shit.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He left me.”

“Why?”

“We had a kid.”

“But having a kid is a bless-ed event.”

“Not when you're a pirate traveling the globe getting into
adventures and shit. He wanted freedom.”

“What did you do?”

“I spitted – or spat – into his face and kicked him
in the dick. Damn him. He said he was sorry, that he was hopeless,
that he was a loser, that he loved me, that he didn't have enough
money for child support, that he wanted my mercy. Him having no
money? My ass. I know I saw a pile of gold on that ship. In any case,
he cried and sailed away. Good! Serves him right. I hope the guilt's
eating away his guts....Take my advice, lad. Never sleep with a
pirate. They're like hippies, only with swords.”

The cop cars screamed to a stop. Officers jumped out and ran around
chanting, “Hut-hut-hut-hut-hut!” They shoved their guns
into cars, shopping bags, and baby strollers.

I found it odd that every officer looked the same: blond hair, blue
eyes, a bright smile.

Seria put on a bra and winked at me.

“Why don't you go inside and test drive our equipment? Go out
there and get strong. You'll get your girl. I believe it.”

Gregorian chant filled the fitness center. Dressed in red gym shorts,
and a black tank top I wasn't worthy parading myself around in, I sat
on a bench and picked up a three pound dumbbell and did some curls.

“Ha! This is easy.”

How are your hands?

I looked around.

It was Elaine, standing with her fists on her hips and looking
furious. I sat up and dropped the dumbbell.

“Elaine! What are you doing here?”

Someone went, “Shh!” Others looked at me all funny, but
shrugged it off and went back to their exercises.

I hushed up.

“What are you doing here?”

Elaine shook her head. She was close to crying.

You bastard....Touching BREASTS!

“Come again?”

Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Bastard....I saw what you
did
back there. You touched her
BREASTS
.
I knew it. You don't want me.

“Forgive me. I didn't know. I wasn't thinking.”

Well...I don't have time for idiots that don't
think
.
Goodbye.

She walked away. I jumped off the bench and held on to her foot,
begging.

“
No! Please! I love you,
Elaine! I love
only
you!”

After a second of nothing, I opened my eyes. I was on the ground,
holding the dumbbell against my cheek. People walked by, snickering.
I got up and dusted myself off and fussed with my shorts. The person
that shushed me earlier was staring, afraid. I gave a weak smile.

“I'm rehearsing for a play about a man with a weak heart. Pity
him.”

Again, the place was filled with the
sounds of working out – the metal on metal, the groaning, the
yelling, the encouraging, the weeping, the stink of sweat. I pumped
harder. I'd make myself beautiful for Elaine. I looked over my
shoulder and saw her peeking around a corner. She grinned and gave me
the thumbs up. I was doing good. She approved. Inspired, I worked
faster. I began to drip. My arms ached. I moaned through it....Soon,
she'd see me in a whole, new light. I'd be attractive, and, like
Seria said, I'd get my chance to get close to her. She'd finally open
up to me. She'd finally open her
heart
to me. She'd run screaming to me with arms and mouth and legs wide
open. My soul sung out! I was in bliss! My fellow fitness members
smiled and nodded and clapped for me. Someone threw confetti. A young
boy dressed like Pan – complete with goat legs – danced
around and played the flute. Someone pulled on a string. Balloons
fell all around us. I threw my head back and kept working that
dumbbell.

All were merry.

It's all true: Exercise does cure depression.

An hour later, and my arms felt like
they were covered in stomach acid. I gripped my left arm and leaned
back and massaged the pain and groaned, “Ooooooooooooooooooooooh.”
The
burn
, as they
called it....That sweet, sweet burn. I was on the right path. Soon,
I'd have arms the size of horse legs. That was important. I wanted to
be able to pick Elaine up on our wedding day and spin her around in
the air so I could hear her laughter – laughter that would fill
me with a ton of gayness. I'd carry her on my shoulder and wave
goodbye to everyone as I ran through traffic, kicking cars away with
my spectacular horse legs. At the richest hotel, I'd jump through a
window into our honeymoon suite, right onto the bed. We'd play pillow
fight and gag happily like children.

I'd stare into her face – hypnotizing her as sweet piano music
played somewhere. She'd collapse on me and run her mouth-meat all
over my bewildered and bewildering eyes. I'd have no choice but to
seizure in ecstasy. My fingers would shoot in her mouth and play
around inside. Mmm. We'd kiss....I'd be loving – tender, even.
My tongue would be maniacal, yet understanding. I'd peel her clothes
off using only my mouth with the expertise of a spider. She'd giggle
in demonic amusement, then shriek in thickening pleasure that would
surely break the camel's back. We'd hug each other in a tight way –
she'd have no choice but to expel her erotic breathing onto my
grateful, flaring nostrils. Then would come the great, slippery
thrust of compassion. I'd have to be gentle, or course. Gentle like a
spring chicken....Angels would cry in joy over our lovemaking –
a lovebrewing between beasts that no other mortal or immortal can
ever experience.

I believed that deep down, we're all romantics. Find the one that
sets your internal organs ablaze. That inspired passion....It is the
Big Bang itself.

Someone dropped a dumbbell on their foot and yelled out, pulling me
back into the real world. It felt like a movie camera had zoomed out
of my face. Disoriented, I pinched away the coming of a headache
between my eyes and looked around. My bench was wet with a copious
amount of my filth. I reached into my gym bag and yanked out a towel
and wiped down the bench. Seria walked up to me. She wore a red
bandana and twirled a pair of nunchucks in one hand and ate a banana
in the other.

“You're pretty good with that rag.”

“I practice on myself.”

She squinted at me.

“
Be honest with me, boy. Why
are you here? Why are you
really
here?”

I stood up and flung the gross towel over my shoulder. It lashed out
a stream of sweat that slapped a woman in the face. She wasn't fazed
one bit – totally into her workout – totally in 'the
zone'.

“To get a girl,” I said, trying to sound as pathetic as
possible.

Seria asked if I was working. I said I was fired. She looked worried.

“
Women don't like guys that
don't have jobs, no matter how much muscle you have on your bones.
You also need muscle in your
wallet
.”

“Screw it. I'll never make more money than the guy she's with.
He has a rich family. His pops invented that machine that puts ghosts
into household devices.”

Seria finished her banana – peel and all – and put her
nunchucks into her belt.

“But this guy – who's most likely having sex with the
girl of your dreams as we speaketh – still works?”

“
I heard he got a job bathing
the elderly. Yea, so what of it!? God loves him so much – he
can keep him!” I walked over to the weight stand, got two
dumbbells that were too big for my own good, and did alternating
curls like I was injected with a hundred crazy people. “I'm
working, too! You sayin' THIS isn't work? This is a full-time job!
I'm
working
here!
Yaaarrrgghhhh!”

A great, surging energy possessed
me. I pumped so hard – so fast – the dumbbells almost
flew out of my hands. My arms looked like toothpicks taped to
quarters. I did my best impression of a werewolf and growled. My face
was tense and filled with so much blood, it felt like
exploding....People looked and whispered and pointed. Many were
afraid. I yelled out in agony. My arms were shrieking. Spit dangled
off my chin. Seria tilted her head to one side and smiled like a
mother breastfeeding her newborn child. I saw myself in a nearby
mirror-wall. For some odd reason, my reflection was in slow-motion.
If that wasn't weird enough, my reflection wasn't even
looking
at me – just pumping away as
Gregorian chant played
.
And then my head turned into Satan....My mind sighed. All that energy
flew out of my eyes in the form of pathetic tears....My arms couldn't
handle anymore torture. Coming to my senses, I dropped the dumbbells.
The ground shook. I collapsed on the bench, massaging my arms, crying
in that forceful way babies do so well. Very embarrassing. My hands
vomited blood in rhythm with my heartbeat.

Seria stepped behind me, picked me up, and raised my arms to the
gawkers.

“
Passion; dedication; true
love. He's just another lovesick warrior like yourselves, doing his
best
to make the most of
himself. Please, continue with your workout. Mahalo.”

I took in a deep breath and sat on the bench. My heart slowed down
(as did the blood loss).

“
I don't want to look for a
job. All I want to do is workout and look good...for
her
.”

Seria grabbed my blood-hands and examined them.

“You have laughing fingers,” she said, nodding. “You'll
do well here.”

She whistled, waved around her nunchucks to impress me, and walked
away. A phone rang. She ran over to a muscleman and snatched away his
phone, threw it into the air, and jump kicked it. The phone exploded
in a shower of glitter. Seria tiptoed, reached up, grabbed the man's
tall face and squeezed.

“No phones! I hate phones! I hate noise! Can't you see we're
all concentrating!”

He wept.

“
I'm sorry,
master
.”

She let him go and sauntered away, twirling around her nunchucks. The
muscleman just stood there, head down, pouting, his hands folded over
his crotch. People walked by and laughed to make themselves feel
better. At least their eyes were off me. I sniffed and wiped away my
tears and bent down to pick up my dumbbells. I froze. Something was
wrong with the ground – at the spot where they fell. I leaned
in for a better look. I felt the ground.