seemed to
soften. Its eyes took on a more serene appearance and it seemed to both Scott
and Ant that it was even smiling a gentle 'way out there' kind of smile.
“We got a zombie stoned!”
said Scott like a kid at Christmas. “This is one cool story to tell once we get
out of here!”
But the zombie 'high' didn't
last long and suddenly the frantic wriggling returned stronger than before,
knocking Ant flying from his kneeling position.
“The fucker's got the munchies!” shouted
Scott, bringing his boot down hard on its head and hearing the reassuring
crack. “Now let's deal with the candyfloss bonnets!”
“ Oi !
Have a bit of respect mate. My nan's a candyfloss bonnet!” chided Ant with a
frown.
They looked around the messy,
darkened shop. There were around fifty candyfloss bon.......... sorry,
pensioners shuffling about the aisles, some still holding walking sticks and
some still quite nippy considering all the circumstances. They watched them
carefully, trying to work out a plan that would incorporate mass murder of a
coachload of holiday makers in their golden years. This would not be easy!
Suddenly, every member of the
Shearing's jollies brigade stopped in their tracks and began to sniff the air.
“They're on to us,” whispered
Scott “Let's split up, I'm sure we can take half of them each!”
Ant went left and Scott went
right. They were like sheepdogs, prowling around keeping low, with their
shackles slightly raised. But for some reason the sniffing seniors with their
noses poised all headed right. Their sniffing became more pronounced and more
excitable as they shuffled a path toward Scott, who was beginning to feel a
little victimised.
Suddenly Ant sensed a mental
penny drop and he shouted loudly to Scott “It's the Sex Panther!”
“ Whaaaa ?”
managed Scott, scrambling backwards to escape the OAP onslaught that was homing
in on him.
“Mate get your coat off!
Chuck it...... chuck it now, Scott!”
Without a second to spare,
Scott struggled out of his coat -which did indeed reek of the spilt cologne-
and threw it over the newspaper stand and into the middle of the shop.
Around fifty aged zombies
snapped their heads towards the direction of the discarded item of clothing and
altered their course accordingly.
Scott watched in repulsed
horror as his favourite coat became the rope in a tug of war between the males
and females alike as they purred sensually whilst pawing and pulling and
rubbing themselves against the material in a kind of lust fest.
“ Eeeew !”
squealed Scott “I'm not having that back. Randy buggers!”
Ant looked at the scene in
front of him. “We can't kill 'em, Scott” he observed regretfully.
“What do you mean?” asked
Scott, knowing exactly what he meant.
“We both have grandparents;
or at least know some oldies, I'd never be able to sleep with myself again!”
said Ant shaking his head sadly.
“I think you mean you
wouldn't be able to sleep again.......oh never mind. What's the new plan then,
'cos we can't just let them wander around forever can we?”
Both men looked around for
divine intervention; or at least a kinder Plan B ,. Suddenly there it was. At each end of the
opening to the shop stood the concertinaed metal ends of the shop's shutter
doors.
Each man ran toward each shutter end and
noticed with great relief that both ends moved freely. No instructions were
needed, and they ran towards each other at great speed, each pulling and
unravelling a door each. They were just about to meet in the middle when Ant
suddenly halted.
“What ya ' doin '?” shouted Scott as Ant seemed to nip off somewhere.
“We've almost trapped them in!”
“Just this little one, mate” said Ant
returning seconds later dangling the crawling, snarling baby carefully by its
ankle and putting it down gently inside the shop. “He's too young to fend
soften. Its eyes took on a more serene appearance and it seemed to both Scott
and Ant that it was even smiling a gentle 'way out there' kind of smile.
“We got a zombie stoned!”
said Scott like a kid at Christmas. “This is one cool story to tell once we get
out of here!”
But the zombie 'high' didn't
last long and suddenly the frantic wriggling returned stronger than before,
knocking Ant flying from his kneeling position.
“The fucker's got the munchies!” shouted
Scott, bringing his boot down hard on its head and hearing the reassuring
crack. “Now let's deal with the candyfloss bonnets!”
“ Oi !
Have a bit of respect mate. My nan's a candyfloss bonnet!” chided Ant with a
frown.
They looked around the messy,
darkened shop. There were around fifty candyfloss bon.......... sorry,
pensioners shuffling about the aisles, some still holding walking sticks and
some still quite nippy considering all the circumstances. They watched them
carefully, trying to work out a plan that would incorporate mass murder of a
coachload of holiday makers in their golden years. This would not be easy!
Suddenly, every member of the
Shearing's jollies brigade stopped in their tracks and began to sniff the air.
“They're on to us,” whispered
Scott “Let's split up, I'm sure we can take half of them each!”
Ant went left and Scott went
right. They were like sheepdogs, prowling around keeping low, with their
shackles slightly raised. But for some reason the sniffing seniors with their
noses poised all headed right. Their sniffing became more pronounced and more
excitable as they shuffled a path toward Scott, who was beginning to feel a
little victimised.
Suddenly Ant sensed a mental
penny drop and he shouted loudly to Scott “It's the Sex Panther!”
“ Whaaaa ?”
managed Scott, scrambling backwards to escape the OAP onslaught that was homing
in on him.
“Mate get your coat off!
Chuck it...... chuck it now, Scott!”
Without a second to spare,
Scott struggled out of his coat -which did indeed reek of the spilt cologne-
and threw it over the newspaper stand and into the middle of the shop.
Around fifty aged zombies
snapped their heads towards the direction of the discarded item of clothing and
altered their course accordingly.
Scott watched in repulsed
horror as his favourite coat became the rope in a tug of war between the males
and females alike as they purred sensually whilst pawing and pulling and
rubbing themselves against the material in a kind of lust fest.
“ Eeeew !”
squealed Scott “I'm not having that back. Randy buggers!”
Ant looked at the scene in
front of him. “We can't kill 'em, Scott” he observed regretfully.
“What do you mean?” asked
Scott, knowing exactly what he meant.
“We both have grandparents;
or at least know some oldies, I'd never be able to sleep with myself again!”
said Ant shaking his head sadly.
“I think you mean you
wouldn't be able to sleep again.......oh never mind. What's the new plan then,
'cos we can't just let them wander around forever can we?”
Both men looked around for
divine intervention; or at least a kinder Plan B ,. Suddenly there it was. At each end of the
opening to the shop stood the concertinaed metal ends of the shop's shutter
doors.
Each man ran toward each shutter end and
noticed with great relief that both ends moved freely. No instructions were
needed, and they ran towards each other at great speed, each pulling and
unravelling a door each. They were just about to meet in the middle when Ant
suddenly halted.
“What ya ' doin '?” shouted Scott as Ant seemed to nip off somewhere.
“We've almost trapped them in!”
“Just this little one, mate” said Ant
returning seconds later dangling the crawling, snarling baby carefully by its
ankle and putting it down gently inside the shop. “He's too young to fend
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