At the end of the hallway, Cam turned right. Or at least, the left half of him turned right, whereas the right half of Lucy turned left, thus leading Lucy to collide with herself and go sprawling.
"What the fuck?" Cam started to say as Lucy shouted, "fuckin' testicle jockey, learn to drive!"
"Whoa!" Cam said, lifting Lucy's left arm and grabbing her-and-his right boob. "How come I can't move my other arm?"
"It's not your arm, half wit."
"Listen, babe, if you don't start talking nice to me, things are going to get real ugly."
"As opposed to now, when we're somehow stuck in a hallway of my former school--presently a well known den for zombies--with hundreds of bombies exploding behind us threatening to suffocate us with the noxious smoke from their burning corpses since we can't actually move our body away from said smoke since we can't seem to even walk straight since our minds have now each taken control of one hemisphere of our tragically shared body and your first reaction is to grope my fuckin' boob such that I apparently now have three boobs, one being groped, one inexplicably naked, and one living in my head? You're telling me that despite all that I should worry because you're starting to get your fucking feelings hurt?"
Cam pinched Lucy's nipple. Hard. Unfortunately this had an opposite effect from the one desired and the two halves of Lucy spent a moment reeling from the rush. A swirl of pleasure and pain not unlike that experienced by a homophobe sucking a sour candy from the sweet cleavage of a suddenly revealed transsexual.
"Alright, listen, Cammy," Lucy said when the rush subsided. "I know this place, can you just back off the stick and let mama take us outta here?"
"Whatever, just so long as I get to smash some fucking zombie heads, soon. You make me itchy."
With that, Lucy picked herself up and took the left turn she'd been wanting to take, strode down the hall and was about to turn toward an exit when she heard a voice talking from a nearby classroom. Cautiously, she edged to the door and peeked inside, hoping against hope that Selig Retsuc would be in the midst of some shit-faced discourse to his legions.
Instead, Lucy saw a room full of zombies in varying states of decay looking up at a chalkboard. This might not have been so odd if the zombies weren't all identically dressed in perfectly pressed zombie tuxedoes with red bowties, or if the presenter zombie weren't pointing at a drawing of a triangle and saying in a British accent,
"If any of you has just three friends who'd be interested in not only buying some of these exciting products, but selling them as well, you can go into business for yourself, and before long you'll understand my patented Wealth-o-Rama 5000 system." At which point, the presenter zombie winked, smiled, and gave a thumbs up. And then his eyebrow fell off. And then his left ear. And then his jaw.
And then all the zombies in the room began to melt, oozing out of their tuxedoes and turning into zombie goo. The smell was about what you'd expect from liquefied zombie, which is to say it was the kind of smell you'd expect from an over-felched gerbil, left to stew in the anal canal of an unbathed meth junkie who'd died three days ago whilst pawing around a garbage dump looking for a rat to stick up his ass to get out the other rat he'd stuck up there to get to the gerbil.
Happily, the smell was replaced by a waft of roses as a lovely elven creature in a transparent silk blouse strode down the hall to stand beside Lucy.
"Who are you?" Lucy asked, though she had the squidgiest feeling she somehow already knew.
"I'm an ancient. Name's Blanchett Galadriel. I'm here to tell you to wake up."
"Fuck you talking 'bout?" Cam asked.
"None of this is real. You two are still inside your cage. There's a pyramid of zombies rising above you. You've passed out from the fumes and only imagined you somehow managed to fall through a hole in solid ground and land in the gymnasium of Lucy's old school several miles away. Physics, after all, is not so negotiable as you'd like to think."
"So no hole-in-the-floor trick?"
"No. No hole-in-the-floor trick. It was lame."
"It was a hell of a lot more original than a fucking dream sequence."
"I admit, it would be terribly cliche to just pretend that something that supposedly happened didn't happen because you merely dreamed it. That would be cliche and, truth to tell, rude. That's why this is actually a vision. A vision wrought by bombie fumes. How else do you think your otherwise passably dressed person became naked but for a thong?"
"This vision sucks."
"Would you prefer it if we were making out?"
"No," Cam lied, mostly out of spite.
Lucy, however, didn't hesitate. Between the prospect of waking up in a cage at the bottom of a zombie pyramid and making out with a hot elven-looking chick whilst the two of them were mostly naked, Lucy didn't figure there was much of a contest.
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