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"Pimp my ride, Sonny!"
(elements - coyote, snow plow, 1936 Chevy Corvette, the Zombie Apocalypse)
The TV blazed on, loud and strong, repeating the same report over and over again.
"Grandpa! Can you shut it off? There's nothing new! They'll keep repeating that thing until their power's gone! And you're wasting our electricity!"
Grandpa had run out of batteries for his hearing aid days ago and kept turning the TV on for more news about the situation. The generator had a few more days in it so he couldn't feel the change, this zombie 'apocalyse'. My parents had sent me here to Grandpa's place, a remote house outside of town, as soon as it began. I hadn't heard from them for a fortnight, I suspected the worst.
"What's that, sonny? The TV's too loud!"
"Turn it off!" I ran upstairs and switched it off. "Grandpa, they can hear us, okay?"
"Eh? Who's that, sonny?" He shuffled over to the TV in his comfy slippers, ready to put it back on.
"The zombies, Grandpa!" I spotted one climbing over the fence and took Grandpa's pump action shotgun, opened the window and aimed. Headshot. Then I saw them.
"Grandpa! Err...I think we've gotta get out of here!" A handful of cartridges weren't enough to stop what was walking down the road towards us.
"Eh? Oh, visitors, and so many!" Nothing wrong with his eyesight. "Gimme that." He grabbed the shotgun and took out one more. "Ah, I've still got it. Sonny? Let's go."
It took ten minutes to get to the garage door. Grandpa stopped.
"Grandpa?" Another came close. Headshot.
"Shhh, I'm peeing."
"Okay, okay, sonny." He opened the door to reveal his old snow plow, unused for over 20 years.
"What the...? Grandpa! That thing doesn't run!"
"Ah, but this one does." He shuffled further back into the garage and there it was, a small red sports car.
"What's that, Grandpa?" Headshot. Five more cartridges.
"A 1936 Chevy Corvette." We jumped into the two seater.
"1936? Isn't that a bit old, Grandpa?"
"Yes. They only started making them in 1953."
"This is a 'hybrid', sonny. Back in 1936, me and my guys took a Coupe and suped it up with a 1933 Bugatti Grand Prix engine we 'borrowed' and brought over to the US. My, was that Fitzroy Somerset angry!" Grandpa laughed and hit the pedal, crushing two zombies under the wheels as we left. We headed out towards his fishing hut at the lake, hidden on an island.
"Are you telling me you 'pimped' an old Chevy Coupe?" It ran superbly.
"Pimp my ride, sonny!" He pushed the pedal down and we flew through the bends. In a few moments we arrived at the lake.
"Wow, Grandpa, that was...!" His body lay slumped on the dashboard. "Thanks, Grandpa." He'd given his last to save me. I laid him back into his seat.
While rowing across to the island, I glanced over to my new home. On the bank stood a lone coyote, watching intently.
"Just you and me now, ol' buddy."
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