25. The Dead Life (reality show)-Eric Inspired by Ben Norskov

• FADE IN


• EXT. ABORTION CLINIC-DAY


• Several zombies dressed in tattered clothes picket outside an abortion clinic. Moans echo from the building walls. Pedestrians run and scream, peeling out in the parking lot to escape. KENT, a fresh looking zombie smokes a cigarette.


• KENT
• I thought once I died I'd be able to kick smoking. Nope, the first thing I did was light up. Addiction does not stop at death. Oh no. Death is only the beginning. So, all you noncomformist, WTA picketers, corporate antagonists, Phillip Morris owns you, even after death! Don't try and kid yourselves.


• BRIAN
• You never stop wanting to be unique. I don't care if you die a thousand times, you still have to take care of that big baby called self esteem, your image. Don't let anyone here fool you-we don't care about abortion. We just don't want these aborted fetuses stealing our thunder. Kent always spouts this type of nonsense, that oh, us zombies are so politically active. We protest, we believe in human rights, we vote. Pfft, what a front. There's only one motivation. We can't afford to be upstaged by something more grotesque than us. We've got an image to maintain.


• INT. BEDROOM-EVENNING


• Several female zombies are fixing themselves up, pulling clothes out of an enormous walk in closet. Jessica holds up a black Bettie Paige T-SHIRT. She notices some white FLAKES of skin on it. She shakes the shirt and turns to Gabrielle.


• JESSICA
• Oh no you didn't just peel on my shirt! Stop %^&*! borrowing my clothes and for god's sake get your psoriasis under control!


• Gabrielle looks angry. She places both hands on her hips and leans her head towards Jessica.


• GABRIELLE
• It's not psoriasis you stupid $%&#*! If you didn't notice, you're like dead, Jessica. Dead ya know? Your flesh rots off. And you rotted on my comforter, so don't act all high and mighty.


• INT. REC ROOM-EVENING


• Gabrielle plays a game of pool by herself, steadily banking shots.


• GABRIELLE
• Jessica gives zombies a bad name. She always tries to dress and act all Goth. I keep trying to tell her, you're dead. You don't have to act anymore. You are Goth. All she's done since she's been here is bitch. You're flaking on this, you're drooling on that. Carrie told me I better be grateful, that Jessica actually became smarter after her brain rotted out. I can't imagine how stupid she was when she was alive.


• INT. STUDY-MORNING


• Professor Davis reads a periodical: Politiking. He is dressed in a black sport coat and wears a round, glass eyepiece with a gold chain. The chain dangles over his collar. His face is severly rotted.
  
• PROFESSOR DAVIS
• They voted me in so they're going to have to live with my rules. To quote Christopher Zombie Rock, there's two types of zombies. There's zombies and there's zombies. I'm not trying to be a facist here, all I'm asking for is a modicum of responsibility. Wash your dishes, yah know? I don't want dried brains caked on the side of my sink. Pick up your arms or legs if they fall off, don't leave them scattered all over the place. Stop trying to lobby for welfare. It's like they're not even happy unless everything is torn up, screens busted out, house a wreck, moaning day and night. As a sociologist, I know we'll never be assimilated into this culture unless we can start acting like decent, dead human beings. Get some self respect. But oh yeah, I'll whip them into shape.


• Professor Davis's EYEBALL pops out, shooting his glass eyepiece across the room. His eyeball is dangling by cords of nerves.


• INT. CAFE-MORNING


• In the window of the cafe a bulletin is posted that reads:No Death Certificate ID, no entry. Several zombies sit in the cafe sipping mugs of coffee and eating brain croissants. TERA, an african american zombie sips on a red Italian soda. An untouched PLATE OF FINGERS sits on the table.


• TERA
• Gabrielle told me I'm triple f*&$%#& because I'm black, female, and undead. In college I was always the anamoly. I was the only Republican in my clique of bleeding hearts. But now that I'm dead, I'm leaning more to the democratic party. Hill says we're going to have universal health care coverage. Does that include us? I don't know, but if I were legally allowed to vote I think she'd have mine. You know how hard it is to get coverage now? I can't even walk into an office. Thank God for the internet. Obama's motif is unity, change, and equality. But I never experienced change or equality when I was alive, so I'm not going to hold my breath now. This may sound very pessimistic and defeatist, but we have an axiom at the zombie loft we all agree on: Nothing changes after you're dead. Things usually only get worse.


• RYAN
• If I didn't trust them when I was alive, why should things change now? We're the most impoverished class of people in the world. And what do they do about it? They prey on us. Sad thing is, we have no other choice. Senator Del Ray swings by the loft once a month to pick up my girlfriend, Crystal. You'd be surprised how many politicians have zombie fetishes. Hey, it pays my bills. And it's legal. Sleeping with a zombie does the same thing for the necrophiliac that methadone does for the heroin addict. If you ask me, it's wholly hypocritical. You can't cheat life. It's like medical marijuahna. I wish people would just stop with the excuses. If you want to sleep with a dead girl then do it, you don't have to pretend you're a decent, law abiding citizen by sleeping with the next best thing.


• INT. MOVIE THEATER-NIGHT


• Dawn of the Dead is playing on the screen, several zombies eat buckets of popcorn. Britney walks to the bathroom.


• BRITNEY
• That girl so didn't look like a real living dead. You couldn't even see her third layer of skin. I can't stand movies anymore. And I can't believe we're still the typical consumer, slaves to the masses. Mindless entertainment if you ask me. And all these DEAD movies just parody our lives. I want to do something different. I want to change the world. Kent thinks he's doing the world a favor by eating or scaring all the inner city drug dealers away. He says when he corners one in an alley, and they get a good look at his face, they're willing to do anything. They give him all their drugs, even their food stamp cards. Their wallets...really anything they happen to be holding at the time. But he's just doing it because he still thinks he's an addict. He's a moron. He doesn't even have a nervous system or any neurotransmitters. He says drug dealers exploited him all his life, that now he's just returning the favor. He says we should capitalize on this. We can't die, so what should we fear? He wants to turn exploiting the aristocrats of the living into some kind of art form. I don't know if I want to go that route. That'll just widen the chasm between us. Maybe I'll start a day care center. I don't know.


• FADE OUT