I talk to myself a lot it seems, my mind echoes situations like a drunk man yelling in the night. My name is Bill Bobson, also known as Acid Bill, and this is my life as a unlucky son-of-a-gun.
I've been on the run for months now and I'm starting to get a little pissed off. If some guy told me that I'd be turned into a half stone/ half acid freak, melt my beautiful 18 wheeler "sally may" with my acid arm, be kidnapped and experimented on by some center for disease control wannabes, and now running for my life on a dammed abandoned highway I'd would tell him to go easy on the beers.
Why did I have to be so damn nice to other road folk? If I just ignored that busted truck on the side of the desert road I wouldn't be in this mess. I've stopped running and now slowly walk to nowhere, just thinking on how one act of kindness bit me in my ass, but it's a little late to be whining about it mostly the big silver lining in this hell cloud is if I didn't get infected with what those Hazmat doc's called ‘Ooze’. I would have died when that Ooze infused virus hit the major cities turning normal folks body's into the zombies, that's a fate worse than death.
After about an hour I stopped dead in my tracks and gazed at the stars, the only thing that hasn't changed since my old days of driving my dear ‘sally may’ across the great American roads. The best part of the job was the constant travel, I hate staying in one place for to long, makes my skin crawl sometimes but there is nothing like driving at night with the stars shining bright wherever I go.
Suddenly I heard something and I always hated what that sound of moaning and growling meant for me. If on cue zombie's started to come onto the abandoned highway with a look in their eyes that just screamed "let's eat" as they shuffled closer to me. I usually like to fight but something about fighting the dead corpse of some poor folk who lucked out didn't set well to me, but I preferred living to tomorrow so.
"Time to kick some dead ass!" I screamed as I rushed at the small horde.
….
Else where...
A fat middle age man with a light skin tone and crazy red hair was watching a strange creature fight a small group of weird looking zombies on a viewing screen, the fat man was wearing a trench coat as black as ink. This man watched with a sick joy as the creature was smashing through the zombie's with one stone arm sending some flying and to the fat man's excitement his other arm melt many zombies into a liquid puddle.
"I like to raw killing potential of this guy, I bet he could cause a lot of mayhem in an unsuspecting realm. said the fat man with a wicked smile as he pulled up a translucent keyboard and typed the location of the creature.
….
It took a few minutes but those zombies fell like some old beer cans on the side of a road. After a short prayer for those poor folk I realized that the fight may have attracted more of them so I hightailed it out of there and continued down the abandoned road.
An hour later I saw some lights come down the road, at first I was surprised thinking that it was those government nuts again but it was properly just some survivors trying to save themselves.
For some reason a thought about all the hitchhikers I picked up when I was a trucker just popped up and I jokingly lifted my stone arm and started to do the national sigh of hitchhiking. To my surprise not only did the vehicle slow down it was what I saw that really surprised me. It was a 18 wheeler but like none I have ever seen, it was slick with no dirt or any imperfections at all and it has a corm paint job with a crimson lines running along the top and bottom edges. It was a true beauty, but I was still a little leery about something like that in the middle of nowhere, the vehicle stopped a few feet in front of me as I slowly walked to the driver's side window, I noticed the engine of this beauty did not sound like any engine I have ever heard, more like an alien spacecraft sound like from one of those old drive through movies.
The vehicle's window rolled down to reveal a pudgy man with crazy red hair and mustache who looked at me with a creepy looking smile.
"Hi there, got to say it's a little odd for someone to be on this old road in the middle of the night during the apocalypse." I stated with obvious curiosity.
"Well lets just say I love a little chaos in my day and a apocalyptic drive thru zombie infested lands sounds just a little chaotic to me." said the clearly crazy man.
"Ok..."
"By the way my name is Wynston, and this beauty is my Cromstar."
"I have to say nice ride there Mr. Wynston."
"Thank you, so have you heard of that Safezone?"
"What Safezone?"
"You see there is a place out there in the great unknown were that could use a hero like yourself, a place where they treat people no matter who they are with friendship.
"Now that sounds tempting but I'm kind of busy."
"Oh I understand, fighting day after day against your government and zombies can be a full time schedule." said Wynston
A little caught off guard he kept on talking.
"But think about this: my Cromstar can take us anywhere in the multiverse, but trust be this Safezone is your best bet.”
"What the hell, sounds good to me."
"Good, climb on it and I'll take you there."
I climbed in the back of the Cromstar which was a nerd's wet dream of a high tech wonderland. I sat on one of the out of place chairs and said...
"My names Bill Bobson, but you can just call me Acid Bill."
"Well Bill time to go to the Safezone." said Wynston as he typed into a translucent keyboard and the road disappeared in a flash of blue and white light with the sound of the engine roaring.
This is it, may get a new purpose in my life and that's better than fight those dame zombies. I was a little pissed today but I think my lucks turning around. Of course I can always be wrong.
….
It was a peaceful afternoon in Ponyville. The idle chatter of the town’s ponies and the clacking of hooves on the little town's streets were the only sounds that permeated the air. All around where little houses with thatched roofs, brick and stucco walls, and happy ponies in the doorways. Vendors called to ponies from behind their stalls and in front of their carts. The smell of baked foods and fresh produce wafted from every corner.
Within the center of Ponyville was Princess Twilight's Castle, grand and majestic like a moose on fire. Today Twilight was preparing to go to the new local bookstore to get more reading material and some quills for her own novel she had just started. All was well in the world until a loud crash echoed thru the castle.
Twilight quickly came down the staircase to see a bright light in the entrance hallway. She thought it was some odd magical force when she came upon a large vehicle of crom color that burst through the front door of her home.
The side door of the vehicle opened and from it a large stone object was pushed out.
“Hey! What the hell!?” Bill yelled at the fat man who pushed him out of the Cromstar.
“This is your stop Bill my boy, hope you make a lot of new friends!” The Fat Man closed the Cromstar’s door and pushed a few buttons on his console.
In silver flash of light the Cromstar vanished. Leaving Bill into side a weird colored castle.
….
“Well this turned to shit real fast.” I muttered to myself.
This will teach me to take a ride in a timey windy vehicle. I looked over to see the bright light coming from daytime thur the busted doorway of this castle.
“At Least its daytime...wherever I am.” I look around to see the damage the Cromstar did when I locked eyes with a pony whose mouth was agape. A purple winged pony with a horn. In what fresh hell did Wynston leave me in?
End Of Prologue
