Greatest Zombie Movie Ever by Jeff Strand Page B

enough to prove to Alicia that he was serious.
    In the shower he could feel each individual droplet of water pound into him with the force of a stampeding rhinoceros. He couldn’t believe how terrible he felt. It was almost as if the human body required sleep to function properly.
    He looked in the mirror. Ugh. There was a reason he worked behind the camera.
    â€œYou look tired,” Mom said as he sat at the dining room table and poured himself a bowl of Extreme Sugar Flakes.
    Justin said, “Yeah,” or something approximating that.
    â€œDidn’t sleep well?”
    Justin shrugged. Or at least he thought he shrugged. His body made some sort of twitching movement at any rate.
    He only lived four blocks from school, so every day he walked instead of taking the bus. Normally this was a good thing since buses were often filled with students who liked to flick Cheetos and/or boogers at you, but today he would have appreciated the ride. Or even better, he would love for someone to just carry him to school on a stretcher.
    Gabe, who lived only two blocks farther from school, was waiting outside when Justin left the house. He looked absolutely exhausted but didn’t look crazed, so he must have gotten some actual sleep.
    â€œHow’d it go?” Justin asked.
    â€œAt three in the morning, I had to crash,” Gabe admitted. “I ended up with fifteen pages. Half of what I was supposed to write. I’m sorry.”
    â€œI only did twelve.”
    â€œSlacker.”
    â€œWhat do you think the odds are that Bobby wrote sixty-five pages?”
    â€œNot great.”
    â€œWhat do you think the odds are that Bobby wrote thirty pages?”
    â€œNot great.”
    â€œWhat do you think—”
    â€œWe both know he went home and went straight to bed,” said Gabe.
    â€œYeah,” said Justin. “He’s so lucky.”
    Bobby, who took the bus and often had Cheetos stains on the back of his shirt, was hanging out by the Squid Hand Tree, which was so named because Gabe thought it looked like a squid and Bobby thought it looked like a hand. (Justin thought it looked like a fork, but that observation had not been incorporated into the tree’s name.)
    â€œHey, guys,” Bobby said. “You look tired.”
    â€œYeah,” said Gabe, and Justin merely nodded because it required less effort.
    â€œDid you get your shares done?”
    â€œNo,” said Gabe. Justin shook his head.
    â€œYou didn’t?”
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œYeah.” Bobby looked surprised. “That’s what we were supposed to do, right?” He unzipped his backpack and took out a stack of pages. “I even printed out three copies for us to review during lunch. Why did I bother staying up all night if you guys weren’t going to pull your own weight?”
    â€œLet me see that,” Justin said and took the pages from him. He quickly flipped through them. They were indeed the pages of a zombie screenplay. “How’d you do that?”
    â€œI told you. I just needed inspiration.”
    â€œWell, you got to write the last third, which has all of the coolest stuff,” said Justin.
    â€œWhat Justin means,” said Gabe, “is that we both apologize and that we’re glad at least one of us did what he was supposed to do.”
    â€œYeah,” said Justin. “I’m sorry. I’m really tired, and last night I hallucinated that my bed threatened to eat me.”
    Bobby shrugged. “It’s okay. Sometimes beds are jerks.”
    â€œI’ll try to write a couple of pages during first period.”
    â€œDuring the test?” Gabe asked.
    Justin stared at Gabe for a very long time. “Test?”
    â€œThe history test. Today. First period.”
    Justin suddenly wished there was a nearby bunker where he could hide away for a few minutes and scream. “I completely forgot to study for that! Why didn’t you remind