The Back Page - Here is the Front Page
FeaturesRambling HistoryThe former Papa and current senile member of the RRF remembers things from the days when he could actually remember things. Listen and learn, younglings!
- by Murray Jay Suskind, COG
The Fifth of November
Now back in the old days, the harmanz planned on invading Ridleybank on the 5th of November, and it weren't no joke! Nope, instead of hiding in some library and declaring ultimate victory, they actually tried to take multiple buildings and "secure" Ridleybank. In fact, some whippersnapper tried to organize a charge into Blackmore and actually got dozens of people to show up. Because back in the day the harmanz would actually work together instead of having dick measuring contests and proudly claiming to be the most trenchtastic!
So where was I? Oh, so there was a Halloween Costume Contest going on at the time because there was a Costume shop in Tynte Mall in those days, and we gots the nicest costumes you ever saw. That and the lightweight brigade charged and charged and charged on the 5th of November, but they couldn't hold any important buildings in Ridleybank. The zombies simply ?rised again and again keeping the harmanz from vandalizing our homes with their evil barricades. A damn lot of us took on more than one harman and ?rised up to 10 times in one day (I was a lot more spry in those days)! However, after a while we got all spent and on the 6th the harmanz not realizing that they had already failed took Blackmore.
So the original fifth of November was actually really huge. Like damn near 1000 harmanz jamming themselves into Ridleybank and Nichols Mall. Now in those days the harmanz were more numerous, but often just as stupid. When they announced that they were "taking" Ridleybank on the 5th of November, that just attracted a lot of our zetheren out of the RRF to Ridleybank. Hundreds of zombies were out on the streets, hundreds of harmanz were hiding in the buildings and a big 'ol donnybrook was on.
Now, us RRF zombies started catching onto some more advanced tactics. We brought our biggest and most effective strike team back home for the 5th (unlike Blackmore I) and the GMT Breakfast Club cracked open Blackmore and got 10-20 zombies inside a day, with more and more following them in each day. Auxunit 10 and a small group of fanatical Maoist zombies called the Red Guards were chipping away at Nichols. And Group 0 (which is what DoHS was called in those days) and DoHS (which is what the Praetorian Guard was called in those days) were both at home, cracking into buildings all over Ridleybank on a daily basis.
So there was a massive battle mounting for the next couple of weeks until the day before Barhahgiving, a massive breakthrough was made and both Blackmore and Nichols fell to our mighty claws. Over Barhahgiving weekend we ate a bounteous feast and then numerous leftovers as we cleared out the 'bank. I think it was the prettiest feast these old, dead eyes have ever seen. It was something truly worth giving BARHAH! for.
Babah TalesAn inspirational true-to-unlife story begins, as a fresh babah takes his first steps into the city of Malton.
September 4th, 2008
He knew something went horribly wrong when he woke up with a buzzing headache and the pain of fire rushing through his veins. Something definitely was wrong. How did he even come to this place? His clothes were covered encrusted with blood and filth, leaving him surrounded with the smell of death and decay.
As he rose from the pile of lifeless bodies, he nearly stumbled across an arm sticking out of it. This... was... disgusting!
To make things even worse, the taste resting on his tongue resembled that of a decomposed cat - not that he ever ate one, right? Right? He slowly passed by a shattered window and froze upon his reflection. His mouth and chin where covered in a dark, crusty flakes of what only could be dried blood.
Hell no...
His legs ceased to hold his weight, and he barely managed a landing on his hands, as his guts took a spin and he puked them out. No chance of denying it - he had been one of those undead creatures for quite some time, and apparently had attacked other humans, eating their flesh. This thought stirred up another seizure, until he felt like choking on his own puke.
The humming sound of a bullet missing him only by two or three inches was followed by the typical crack of an assault rifle in the distance. He prepared himself for a second one - which undoubtedly would hit him - as he heard something heavy falling right behind him. The creature almost had managed to reach him. Whoever the shooter was, he for sure saved him from being eaten while vomiting onto the street.
A distant movement caught his eye. Right upon the roof of a run-down police station knelt a dark figure, reloading its rifle. Could this be his salvation? Possible. But, considering the circumstances, that building might as well be the end of his miserable journey. It did not matter...
He arrived in front of the police station, banging against the door. Minutes later, he was close to give up, as he heard a voice inside:
"School's closed goddammit! Move your sorry ass away from here, or I'll put a neat little hole right between your eyes!"
Soon, a second voice answered.
"Richard, let the man in. He's totally messed up, can't you see? Besides, we could use every help available. You know damn well that the zeds are gaining more and more ground these days."
"We're doin fuckin' well on our own..."
"I'm not going to discuss this. Let the man in. NOW."
"Fine. But he'd better not fuck with me..."
Apparently, some furniture got dragged away from the door, before a young man opened it.
"Better move your ass inside quick... Before I choose to put a bullet into it."
The confused, revived zedling stumbled inside the building, the doors being closed and rebarricaded behind him.
"Don't touch anything, or I'll chop your hands off."
"Richard, I told you to stop the bullying!"
An man in his sixties showed up at the top of the stairs, looking down at the angry young guy.
"We better change shifts. Go man the post. I'll take care of our visitor."
"Ah hell, whatever..."
As the young man climbed the stairs, the now-alive zedling noticed a patch on his left shoulder reading "DEM". A few seconds later, the sound of a slamming door could be heard upstairs.
"You have to excuse Richards behavior. Unfortunately, we need all people we can get. By the way, I'm Martin. What's your name?"
"I... can't..."
Finally, the revived zedlings body revolved. Whether struck by the trauma of actually having eaten humans alive, or by some revivification side effect, it didn't matter. The lights went off.
He woke up in a small, dark room. On a chair right next to the bed he was laying on, Martin sat looking at him.
"Hey Dan, back amongst the living?"
"Dan?"
"Yes, Dan. Dan Smith, that's what your driver's license is saying."
"You've searched my clothes?"
"Well, you pretty much are a stranger, right? And since you didn't remember anything, I thought I might look for some clues..."
Bang!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Yeah! All the zeds are going to HELL!"
Richard stood at the window, shooting at some target outside.
"How'd THAT feel, bastard? Huh? How'd THAT FEEL?! No balls for rotting corpses, you don't need 'em anymore, FUCKER!"
Martin rushed towards the young DEM member.
"Richard, what are you... Oh my god..."
Slowly, Dan stood up and took a look outside the window. His stomach took a jump once again. Richard, in some kind of mad violence spree, hat shot a zombie's foot, nearly severing it from the ankle. With the creatures now severely handicapped movement abilities, he had gone further pumping bullets inside its body, leaving holes all over it. The most disturbing hit, however, was a well aimed shot at the zombies genitals, which now where completely missing.
That was too much for Dan. Once again, his legs weakened. He barely managed to puke outside the window, before he once again went unconscious.
He woke up from Martin shaking his shoulders.
"Dan, we need your help. I know you're still weak, but we need every helping hand on the factory over there."
Dan looked towards the window, still shaken by the memories of Richards rampage. He shook his head.
"I can't..."
"Dan, please, you don't need to kill someone. We just need you to keep the barricades at a strong level..."
"I CAN'T!"
Dan screamed. Then he rolled over to the other side of the bed, moving into a fetal position.
"Alright then... maybe you still need some time. I'll be in the factory for some time, trying to keep the zombies outside. If you change your mind, you know where I am..."
Several hours later, Dan woke up from the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The door flew open, and Richard marched inside, covered in blood and with a mad grin on his face.
"Look what we have here... You goddamn coward. Hiding in OUR shelter, while we risk our lives for scumbags like you? YOU FUCKIN' TRAITOR!"
Richard pulled his gun and aimed it at Dan's head.
Gonna show you how we deal with scum like you..."
CRACK!
"What the-- Oh, fuckin' shit! Don't tell me those zeds just broke in. Gonna deal with you later, bastard. I've got some targets to practice on!"
Dan did not move while the mad DEM guy yelled at him. Nor did he move, as the man ran down the stairs and started shooting at the zombies that had managed to break into the hideout. And he also did not move, as - at some point - he suddenly heard Richards swearing change from plain outraged madness to severe pain.
"Yeah, motherfuckers!" - BANG! - "Take this, asshole!" - BANG! - "Fuck you, you piece of sh... Oh, no... LET GOOOAAAAAAAARRRGH!"
The sound of a body being ripped into peaces was followed by slow, but steady footsteps moving upstairs. Dan prepared for the inevitable end.
Several hours later, Martin opened the door to the small room. He had returned from an exhausting battle inside the factory, found the doors of the hideout smashed open and the remains of Richard right in front the stairs. Should he feel sad or relieved about this guy's death? Well, it didn't matter. He had to look for Dan, though.
"Dan?"
In the darkness, he could barely see the scared young man laying on the bed, coiled up in nearly the same fetal position as he was in when Martin left.
"Dan? Are you alright? Dan, get up, we need to move out of here, now!"
He almost violently shook the young man's shoulders. Finally, Dan moved, mumbling something in a low voice.
"What is it, Dan? You'll have to speak louder..."
In an attempt to better understand what the young man was saying, Martin brought his head next to Dans lips.
"GRAAAAGH!"
The Writer's DeskPost-Creedy Amusement
Note: intended to be sung in the style of Cab Calloway
I went down to Fort Creedy Infirmary
To bash some barricades there
Gonna grab me two little DNA bandits
And drag them out by their hair!
All of us Ridleys are laughing:
You silly Harmans never see
Packing all your brahnz into huge concrete walls
Just makes it easier for zambahz like me >:)
First, we'll come knocking on your front gate,
Break in and eat every single brahn:
You might Headshot us and dump us outside,
We shall merely Rise and come back in!
We'll Groan and we'll Ruin your gatehouse
Hungry ferals will shamble around
There'll be so many zambahz that you can't evict us
And your Fort will come tumbling down :D
Creedys, my advice would be:
Run off to McCloud's Bar and drink up their boooooze!
but no... you'll be lunch for me:
and have those Fort Creedy Infirmary Blues
If You Read Both Pages, Congratulations!If you didn't, then start here.
| 
