Geraldine fought the urge to stab him with her pencil as she sipped her whiskey sour. Club Atomic was the worst place to pick up men, and down right horrible for new zombie parts. Geri figured she’d be lucky to get out of there with her dignity intact and maybe another drink, so she waved at the bartender for another and turned back to the man in the lime green checkered jacket. What was his name? Dan? Don? Donovan… Must have been that.
“Where you from pretty lady?” Donovan put down money when the bartender brought the whiskey. “I just came in from the big city, looking for a little R and R. Maybe something more, if you know what I mean?”
Geri drank the shot in one gulp. Zombie parts, that’s all he was for. Just get his arms off of him, yes, that’d be good. Donovan had strong arms, well defined, manly. He had chicken-legs though – so only the arms.
“Nobody asked for ID, if you know what I mean. So I came through the back gate and happened to walk in to this lovely bar. Not even sure what the name of the place is. Say, dude! Naw, I don’t need another drink. Well, how about a brewsky? What’s the name of this place? Club Subtomic? Man, I love this club! Beautiful women everywhere, cool drinks, hot dancers.”
The bartender rolled his eyes and moved on to the next customer. Geri wished she could move somewhere else too, and be done with this stupid club and collect the damned specimens. She also hoped he’d come back down to this end of the bar so she could get another drink. Geri rubbed her finger across the rim of the glass, trying her best to ignore Donovan.
“I knew this one chick, not as hot as you, but she had legs as long as…”
That was it. Geri pulled out the pencil – a seemingly benign number two pencil like every school kid used, sharpened at one end with a bright red rubber eraser on the other, with “Number 2” written on the side. He’ll wish he’d made the excuse of number two to get away from me.
“What you smiling about? I bet a girl like you can tell some funny jokes. Me, damn I once had this neighbor who kept me up all night, she and I would get a bottle of rum and…”
Geri tapped the pencil on the side of the glass, the ringing sound eerie and – oddly – metallic sound.
“Hey, baby. What’s that pencil for? You know I’m not into anything kinky. Well, I like kinky, but only if it’s you doing it. If you know what I mean.”
“Nope,” said Geri, “nothing quite like that.”
“Shucks. Hey, so what do you do for a living anyway? Smoking body like that, you don’t have to work. You know, just get whatever you want without asking.”
“I’m an engineer.” Geri put the pencil to her lips. “I don’t even have to ask?”
“Engineer?” Donovan moved a little bit away from her and pulled his glass closer to the center of his body. “What’s a smart girl like you doing in a place like this?”
The bartender placed another whiskey sour in front of Geri. She thanked him by only moving her lips, he rolled his eyes and smirked while counting the money the customer next to Geri left.
She lifted her glass in mock toast and winked at Donovan. “I’ve told you all about me. Why don’t you tell me something about you.”
“About me?” His head moved in an arc as a pretty young girl in a skin tight dress walked by. “I work in personnel.”
“Sounds really exciting. I always wanted a man in personal.”
Geri waved the pencil at his glass, whispered the magic words. She thought he might have asked her to repeat what she said, but Geri ignored him. He’d never know, never need to know, and was better off not knowing.
“What was that pencil for?”
“Call me baby.”
Donovan took a sip and shivered almost imperceptibly. His skin turned yellow in less than the amount of time it took him to finish his beer. His pupils got dilated and hazy. He looked from her to the bartender to random places around the club. The rest of the club goers continued dancing and laughing and drinking. Geri figured he had a half hour, maybe more if he was really strong. Given his chicken legs, definitely no more than that.
“Psycho bitch.” Donovan threw down a fifty and walked out of the bar. Geri finished her whiskey sour at a casual pace, left a nice tip for the bartender – she never bothered keeping track of their names, better if they weren’t tied to her activities. She found Donovan at the end of a dark alley huddled behind a fish-shop dumpster. Perfect.
He really did have strong arms, but they didn’t help him much when his involuntary motor reflexes kicked in. Geri the necro-engineer sawed off his limbs with the magic of her pencil. Her zombie army got two more arms and another head. The head was only for decoration anyway.
This story is brought to you by a late night writing session filled with story prompts generated by Google, gaming dice, and a Tarot deck. Tonight’s prompts were: Female, past, number 2 pencil, engineer, Club Atomic, magic and sorcery, and the Queen of Wands (Gilded Tarot deck). Not all prompts survived, but none were treated inhumanely, others were recycled for spare parts.