Z
1
"You're not...getting any sleep tonight!" He pranced up the escalator, arms stretched above his head. "You're not...getting any sleep tonight! You're not getting any sleep tonight!"
A head popped over the balcony of the second floor, grumpy face at the ready. "George!" the floating head yelled. But George didn't hear, so he continued up the broken escalator which he lovingly referred to as 'the stairs', singing louder and louder to the music blasting out his dancing pocket.
"You're not...getting an-"
"George!" Cory yelled at the top of her voice, a minor screech punctuating the beginning of the syllable. George jumped out of his skin.
"Alright, no need to yell! These pocket amps are brilliant Cor! Come on, I'll let you choose a tune." He began fiddling with the device hanging out his pocket.
"George!" She screeched for a third time. "Have you totally lost your mind? Do you know how much noise that's making?"
"Uhm, duh. That's the point. It fills this desolate old place with beautiful music." He gestured around him with an inspired grin plastered on his face.
"Well I wouldn't call Enter Shikari's roaring 'beautiful musi-"
"Would either of you care to tell me why you find it necessary to caw at each other across from the balcony to the escalator?" Roy stood behind George on the stationary escalator, frowning at the pair of them. "Rule 5 clearly states that any conversation will be kept to an indoor level. Cory, you could easily have walked over to George in the time I ran from downstairs up to just behind the boy. I thought there was a break in with all the noise."
"I was listening to some music and Cory just started yelling at me," George explained. "She doesn't like my music taste, see?" he held up his battered old iPod Video. Roy stared holes into the teenage boy with his regular non-caring expression before turning his gaze to Cory still hanging over the balcony. Her face flushed red and disappeared from view. The older man sighed and turned.
"I'm going back down to the stock room. Please keep the noise level to a minimum."
"But Roy," George whined. "I don't get it. They're all gone for now, I thought I could rock out a little bit. Like, like before." His face lit up.
"George, you were making enough noise to alert the entire city there's something going on for two or so minutes. I suggest as a little lesson that you take a peek outside. I'll be in the stock room." And with that, he was at the bottom of the escalator and out of sight.
The boy looked down at his old musical device and cradled it in his hands. What did Roy mean by that? It was only two minutes or so. Though having said that, he could see some sort of movement behind the paint they'd splattered on the giant window so many months ago. He clambered up the rest of the steps and pulled back the cover on the first peephole he could find on the wall. Sidling his eye up to the gap, he looked below and felt the need to gulp. There was a moving, breathing mass below that George could only assume was everyone in the nearest area.
He ran away from the wall and into the home department, clambering under a table laden with towels and yelled "zombies! Zombies!"
Cory's head appeared from the top of the table, grumpy face still apparently stuck to her. "You know we don't say the 'z' word."
"But they're out there." He whimpered in response.
"I know." Cory sighed and her head disappeared from sight again. "I know."
A head popped over the balcony of the second floor, grumpy face at the ready. "George!" the floating head yelled. But George didn't hear, so he continued up the broken escalator which he lovingly referred to as 'the stairs', singing louder and louder to the music blasting out his dancing pocket.
"You're not...getting an-"
"George!" Cory yelled at the top of her voice, a minor screech punctuating the beginning of the syllable. George jumped out of his skin.
"Alright, no need to yell! These pocket amps are brilliant Cor! Come on, I'll let you choose a tune." He began fiddling with the device hanging out his pocket.
"George!" She screeched for a third time. "Have you totally lost your mind? Do you know how much noise that's making?"
"Uhm, duh. That's the point. It fills this desolate old place with beautiful music." He gestured around him with an inspired grin plastered on his face.
"Well I wouldn't call Enter Shikari's roaring 'beautiful musi-"
"Would either of you care to tell me why you find it necessary to caw at each other across from the balcony to the escalator?" Roy stood behind George on the stationary escalator, frowning at the pair of them. "Rule 5 clearly states that any conversation will be kept to an indoor level. Cory, you could easily have walked over to George in the time I ran from downstairs up to just behind the boy. I thought there was a break in with all the noise."
"I was listening to some music and Cory just started yelling at me," George explained. "She doesn't like my music taste, see?" he held up his battered old iPod Video. Roy stared holes into the teenage boy with his regular non-caring expression before turning his gaze to Cory still hanging over the balcony. Her face flushed red and disappeared from view. The older man sighed and turned.
"I'm going back down to the stock room. Please keep the noise level to a minimum."
"But Roy," George whined. "I don't get it. They're all gone for now, I thought I could rock out a little bit. Like, like before." His face lit up.
"George, you were making enough noise to alert the entire city there's something going on for two or so minutes. I suggest as a little lesson that you take a peek outside. I'll be in the stock room." And with that, he was at the bottom of the escalator and out of sight.
The boy looked down at his old musical device and cradled it in his hands. What did Roy mean by that? It was only two minutes or so. Though having said that, he could see some sort of movement behind the paint they'd splattered on the giant window so many months ago. He clambered up the rest of the steps and pulled back the cover on the first peephole he could find on the wall. Sidling his eye up to the gap, he looked below and felt the need to gulp. There was a moving, breathing mass below that George could only assume was everyone in the nearest area.
He ran away from the wall and into the home department, clambering under a table laden with towels and yelled "zombies! Zombies!"
Cory's head appeared from the top of the table, grumpy face still apparently stuck to her. "You know we don't say the 'z' word."
"But they're out there." He whimpered in response.
"I know." Cory sighed and her head disappeared from sight again. "I know."