Page 2

"I don’t believe this bullshit! I sold my car back in New York just to get enough money to get down to LA…I was told that the deal was sealed – that my funk record was going to go to the charts, woman!"

"Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it? I mean who listens to funk anyway?" Asked the uppity, white woman.

"What the hell…What about the Black Eyed Peas, or Earth, Wind, and Fire? You mean your telling me you never dug Cameo, Soul Sonic Force, the Commodores, Isaac Hayes, and Rick James?"  I mean for God’s sake woman; even a white girl like you could jam if you got the funk in you – shoot, just look at Tina Marie for example. I mean damn, Rick James’s grave is only two blocks away in Spartan cemetery – don’t you have any respect?"  Asked Dray astonished.

"All those guys are has-beens, except for the Black Eyed Peas, but I consider them more POP than funk. As for Rick James…the man was a womanizing drug addict. You know, if you can’t handle yourself in this business you fall; sometimes right into your own grave. I mean, you just don’t get it, Dray --- Funk is dead!" Replied Kay with a wide, thin-lipped sneer.

"At that moment, something snapped in Dray’s mind. A searing anger swept from his toes, all the way up to his head. A moment later, Dray was on his feat, pointing his finger in the face of the pompous marketing executive.

"How dare you! You make me come all the way down here, sell my car, and then tell me the record deal I was promised is gone? To top that off, you add insult to injury and disrespect my man Rick James? Bitch, I don’t care how rich you are or what you think you know – you’re a fucking dumbass!" Shouted Dray in anger.

A second later, Miss Taigas pushed a button from behind her fancy desk and three large men dressed in black suddenly appeared from behind Dray.

"Get this bum out of my sight!" Said Kay with a particularly salty reply. "…And make sure he doesn’t get back in here!"

Afterward, Dray was suddenly kicked in his ribs and forced to the floor. They grabbed his high, heeled boots and fur-lined jacket and threw them out of the fourth floor window. To insult him further, they pulled off his striped bell-bottoms and tore them in front of his face. Now barefoot and wearing only his underwear and a ripped open, black tank top, the security guards continued to slap him about roughly as they escorted him all the way down to the first floor exist. Once there, they literally threw him out into the street, where dozens of patrons laughed at him as he rolled into the curb.

Embarrassed and steamed, Dray looked up at the fancy building, shaking his fist in wild rage.

"You fucking idiots - funk will never die! You here me, you old bitch; funk will never die…never!"

As Dray was ranting in anger, he noticed that the people that had been looking at him earlier were no longer there. Instead, he saw rows of people either walking very fast, or actually running about wildly. Apparently, something more attentive than a black man yelling in his underwear was distracting them.  As he stopped screaming insults at the towering building of Sun-coast records, a wild-eyed businessman, still in his stuffy suit suddenly grabbed Dray by the shoulders.

"They’re here – Holy mother of Pearl, those bastards are here!" Replied the man in obvious panic.

"What the… Who’s here, man? C’mon, baby...tell me what the funk you’re talking about, honkey!" Replied, Dray in mild cynicism.

"It’s the monsters, they’re here to…gulp – they’re here to eat us alive, man!"

"Shit, blood – you got to be jiving me, dough boy! Ain’t no monsters up in here!" Replied Dray still frustrated by his recent fall from grace.

Ignoring Dray’s comments, the businessman joined the others who ran into sporadic groups trying desperately to reach safety. Soon, Dray saw a large mob of men ravage a heavyset woman and quickly realized that the creatures were indeed eating people alive.

"Holy shit! That crazy mother was right – these nutballs are really eating folks!"

As Dray observed many hapless people being torn apart, he nearly vomited as he watched intestines being torn right from the still-living bodies of the poor victims. Turning to look behind him, Dray now saw a small mob of the ghouls taking chase after him. Not knowing the terrain well, and running on pure instinct, Dray ran for the only place he knew of.

Soon, Dray was climbing over the tall fence of Spartan cemetery. Being fast and quick-witted, Dray lost the fleet-footed zombies that were on his trail earlier. But now, as he ducked behind tall marble tombstones, he realized the idiotic mistake he had just made.

[ Continue to page 3 ]