Owls vs Zombies (by Reuben and Ian McIver)
Once upon a time two rising owl pop stars, Michael Owl and Owla Jackson, were driving in their tour bus around West Yorkshire. They had just finished a few dates in and around Manchester and they steadily found themselves approaching Pontefract, where nary a soul was located. It was quite dark now because people who aren’t famous have to utilise the dark. The driver of the small van stopped because the fog that was gathering was getting too thick and anyway they needed some more petrol. He upped and left poor Michael and Owla in the disturbing, creepy street surrounded by danger.
“Get out and have a look will you,” said Michael, now realising his sentence was actually a question, “there must be somewhere we can go for a drink or something around here.” Owla, still dressed in the clothes from the night before but still looking stunning hooted, “I will do Michael but only if you tell me if there is anything fishy going on outside that I can see.” So Owla climbed down from the van and slowly walked around. Her tiny torch barely lit further than her wingspan. Just then a terribly loud noise was heard; thankfully it was just Michael tapping on the window. “Can you get me a Twix if you find a corner shop, cheers,” he whistled through the small crack in the door.
Suddenly another terribly loud noise was heard and this time not from the van. The fog parted a little and Owla could see an army of zombies parading through the streets of Pontefract. She ran back to the bus but Michael wouldn’t let her on. “Let me in you dick,” she screamed frantically trying to barge her way in. “Not without my Twix you’re not, you think I like this taste in my mouth?” With no other options Owla ran into the forest that was conveniently placed on the side of the road. Inside she felt slightly more protected but it was only a matter of time before the zombies approached. They could smell her fear and the pancakes she had eaten for lunch. The trees seemed to be suffocating her, drawing life from her, she wanted to run yet she couldn’t. On the verge of fainting Owla was drawn towards the peculiar sight of a medium-sized unicorn riding towards her. She thought it was a the oxygen being cut off from her brain; she was wrong.
“Owla Jackson! Well I never, fancy seeing you here,” said the unicorn, “I am your biggest fan did you know that?” Owla dusted herself down as the unicorn had brought a surprising amount of powered soil to that particular section of the woods. “My name is Uni. I came out because I heard the zombies were out showing off again.”
“You know about the zombies? Please, you have to tell me how to defeat them,” spluttered Owla. The unicorn took a short breath looking a little nervous. She coughed and shuffled backwards. “I do know of a way to beat them and I can help you, especially considering you’re a celebrity and all that. It’s a secret though and you have to promise you’ll keep it to yourself.”
“Of course I will,” said Owla, fully intending to keep the information to herself and only using it when necessary. “Zombies loves techno music, so much so that if you play it to them they cannot help but dance and then bugger off home. It’s great. That’s how I usually clear the area.” Owla smiled a huge smile and hugged the unicorn, to which she blushed. This was hidden beneath the layers of dense mist and acorns of black. They looked at each other with a sense of purpose and walked back towards the street.
The zombies hadn’t shuffled much from where they were. Owla turned to the unicorn, “okay, you’re on, but if you need any help you just let me know.” The unicorn nodded and whipped out her microphone and decks. “Okay now it’s time for a Pontefract party, we’re living it up like homeless kitties in a pasteurising plant. Can you hear me over in the corner!” The zombies stopped momentarily and groaned. “I’ll take that as a yes… HIT IT!” The unicorn then launched into the most mesmerising song that Owla had ever heard. Michael Owl, still hiding in the van, pressed his face to the windscreen as the music lifted through the air and cherished every moment.
“OWLA OWLA! OWLA OWLA! OWLA OWLA! OWLA OWLA!”
The song lasted an hour. After sixty minutes there was a pause, and Owla walked over to the unicorn. “Are you okay unicorn, it’s just that you’ve been working for a long time and…
“OWLA OWLA! OWLA OWLA! OWLA OWLA! OWLA OWLA!”
Another hour passed. Owla Jackson sat on the kerb and chewed the inside of her mouth. Another pause came after the second set of sixty minutes. Owla wasn’t taken in and refused to go over but then, seeing that this actually might be the end of the song, got up and…
“OWLA OWLA! OWLA OWLA! OWLA OWLA! OWLA OWLA!”
After three hours the zombies had pulled so many shapes that they were tired and needed to go home for a nap. Owla stood up and hobbled over to the unicorn also feeling very sluggish. “Are you okay unicorn?” she asked half-asleep. The unicorn stared back with intense eyes, “that was the best moment of my life, Owla Jackson!” Deep down Owla was thinking that the best moment of the unicorn’s life was way, way longer than a moment however these semantics could wait. The unicorn was happy, the zombies had dispersed and just that moment the driver of the van came back clutching a thing full of petrol.
Owla gave the unicorn a signed photo as a thank you for her gracious act. “What time are you playing tonight?” asked the unicorn. “I think we’re on at 7pm and I hope that I will see you there,” said Owla with a wink. The unicorn laughed heartily like a pirate and ran off into the forest. Owla headed back and sat in the van next to Michael, who had fallen asleep after the first hour of the unicorn’s song. “What should we do now, Owla?” he asked. Owla thought long and hard and as the van drove away she said, “we should drive away in the van.”
The End.
August 7th, 2011