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THOSE DAMN DEAD BASTARDS > OLD THREADS > PERSONAL ASSIST


Title: PERSONAL ASSIST
Description: TAG ALLY


CHRISTIAN CABLE - April 18, 2012 04:53 PM (GMT)
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<div style="width:310px; font-family: 'Goudy Bookletter 1911', serif; font-size: 9px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 4px; color: #F0E6FE; background: #D20B28; padding: 20px; line-height: 97%; text-transform: uppercase;">You say you don't wanna run and hide</div>
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And everyone ya meet, you're gonna show -----------------------------</div>
<div style="width: 320px; height: 200px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 9px; color: #2D2729; text-align: justify; line-height: 97%; overflow: auto; padding: 5px; border-left: #F0E6FE dotted 1px;">The worst thing about all the zombies - by far the worst thing - was that Christian Cable was stuck in a Mall with a bunch of psychopaths, sad cases and... just... not very famous people. His publicist would hang herself if she wasn't already some kind of shambling, rambling, zombie shitfuck. And Christian didn't think zombies could really make nooses. It just didn't seem likely.<p>

Christian had been here for... oh. A while. Too long. A couple of days would have been too long, but he had a hunch that he was running into at least a month or two now. Which was a long time to be holed up with people who'd probably rob him and stab him just as soon as look at him. He saw the cold, hungry looks in their eyes. Their intense jealousy over his fame and his good looks. And his rippling bod. Naturally. And he was afraid. A little bit afraid, but, still. Afraid. Fear had bled into his day to day routine. Walk around. Work out. Eat. Be afraid. Read a little. Be afraid. Have lunch. Go for a jog. Be afraid. And so on. He just didn't trust anyone here. He knew that if he gave them half a chance, he'd wake up dead. And he'd be kind of bummed out if he died. There was so many things he still wanted to do. He still had to do the EGOT thing, dammit!<p>

So Christian kept to himself for the most part, having the rare conversation with one of the dull occupants of the Mall, taking part in some of the group discussions and generally doing his best to not get stabbed or shot or somehow injured at the jealous hands of the other desperate souls who lived here. The only thing that was keeping him going was the niggling thought that maybe, somehow, someway, this was all some sort of method type thing. Like, he'd been placed in a situation where he couldn't help but act naturally. The ultimate in acting scenarios. Whoever had set him up for this, he'd either sue them or... thank them in his acceptance speech. Depending on how it panned out. He was leaning more toward the award thing. Christian figured he deserved it. Some of these people really smelled.<p>

But that was just a theory. A theory that wouldn't go away, but a theory nonetheless. He stuck to it, but didn't put all that much faith in it. Just in case he ended up believing it a little too strongly and started to call for breaks and complain about the performances of the other actors. Even he knew that'd look a little weird. Even though he was probably kind of super smart for figuring out the possibility. Not that this was a massive surprise! Christian knew he was smart.<p>

At that moment, Christian was looking for maybe the one person in the mall that he could trust. Or at least kind of trust. True, she was kind of lazy and probably stole from him, but he couldn't be picky. So long as he knew she wasn't going to try and kill him or scalp him to try and fashion his thick, luxurious locks into some kind of weird wig - he suspected that more than a few of the other residents of the Mall were thinking about doing that - he could probably depend on her for some things. Nothing major. Nothing huge. Menial stuff. Stuff that he was too famous to do for himself.<p>

He knew where she was saying - Banana Republic - so he did the smart thing. He stormed over there and started calling out her name really, really loud. Because how else was she going to know that he needed her to go and do her job? The rational thing would be for her to just follow him around and get stuff for him when he asked, but no. That was too much trouble.<p>

Christian really was kind of like Ghandi. Except handsome and not gross.<p>

"Ally! I need you to come do your job! I'm getting exhausted from all this yelling and it's your fault!"<p>

He really was too kind.<p>
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<div style="width:310px; font-family: 'Goudy Bookletter 1911', serif; font-size: 9px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 4px; color: #F0E6FE; background: #D20B28; padding: 20px; line-height: 97%; text-transform: uppercase;">You're nobody's slave, nobody's chains are holdin' you</div>

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