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Tropical Depression: En Masse
I’m not sure I have anything interesting to say about zombies, I mean yeah, I’ve worked with a few, but they are just like any of the other undead, you know, the vampires or whoever. They all have their special dietary requirements is all I’m saying.
Okay, there was this one time I was working as a truck driver, delivering rental plants to offices and conventions and stuff and one of my clients got us a contract with a new office in their building, a zombie modeling agency. I think it was called En Masse or something like that. Shit- you would not believe how busy these guys were. I mean, I had no idea how much work there is for zombies in this town so we were pretty happy to have the contract and it was good that it was one of my clients since I’d just lost us the Jim Nabors account after he found me on his BMI scale. Naked.
I got a bad feeling about the En Masse account as soon as brought in the first areca palm. Zombie models- that phrase just doesn’t make me feel good inside. You know, models are bad enough, what with all the regurgitation- that shit has to go somewhere- and it’s rarely the porcelain if you know what I mean. So I just knew there would be some kind of trouble. Seemed normal enough at first: the head of Zombie Resources had ordered the plants to improve staff morale. I guess if you’re a regular looking zombie and you have to work around ultra tall and skinny zombies all day every day, well, that’s gotta have a little impact on the self esteem. But anyway, this ZR manager didn’t exactly specify what he wanted- I listened to the message and it was all “Urrrnnngggg…raaggrrn...nuuunnoorrrrrr” so, as they say in the plant rental industry, “when in doubt- areca palms!” But he was clearly unhappy. After we finished the installation he went around knocking all the plants over and fuckin-a it was a royal mess. Took us an extra half hour to clean that up. The bright side was that he took a liking to my co-worker Diane- she had kind of a way with zombies. I think it was her hair; they were always trying to touch her head. She said it was because she was really smart but if you knew Diane, well, you’d know that’s not exactly true. Don’t tell her I said that though.
Long story short, we replaced the plants four or five times but the ZR guy kept destroying them. I don’t know how that shit was going to improve worker morale- maybe he just needed to let off some steam- but seriously dude, get a gym membership. Anyway, so Diane had ended up sleeping with the guy and I guess he got her drunk and bit her and tried some really kinky shit with her hair. She wouldn’t tell me the whole story but stopped turning up after a couple of days. I think she probably ended up with the ZR guy because I swear I saw her in a cell phone ad and, man, their make up team was great because she looked JUST like a zombie.
In the end I canceled the contract; I was running low on matching palms and the big zombie metal band concert was coming up at the arena- we were doing the VIP areas and let me tell you, you don’t even want to know what ends up in those plants.
