Day of the Living Dead

Black woman with a big black-and blue under her eye, wearing a rag-of-a-dress, was sitting on the bench in front of the bar, staring at people walking by. She sat there, waiting for god knows what. When the bartender was opening the gate, she thought: “Well, I’ll let her sit here for another hour, who cares – she’s probably homeless, let her rest old bones".
Half an hour later a guy in a camouflage jacket, military boots and an army-like hat came running, passed the bartender without saying a word, and went straight to the bathroom. She didn’t react, knowing the type: he’s gonna take a piss, then won’t order a drink, and won’t even say “thank you”. Whatever. To her surprise, he approached her after using the bathroom. She was ready to scream, seeing his bloody eyes, chunks of blood clots hanging from his cheeks. Yikes! – she thought, instinctively offering a guy some ice to put under his swollen eyes ; trying to be polite, although couldn’t bare looking at the guy’s face. “Thanks, sweetie, I’ll be fine. Can I just trouble you for a glass of iced water?”. She gave him the water and went back to her chores, not asking questions (pardon me – to be just, she did ask the guy: “Long night last night, huh?”, for what he just smiled the kind of smile that meant: “I know it, you know it – what’s the point of rubbing it in?”). Meanwhile, the homeless woman wouldn’t move from the bench, like she was hypnotized or something. “OK, last chance, lady – I’m giving you another half an hour to move; if you won’t, I’ll have to intervene”. I mean, give the bartender a break – she wasn’t mean or anything, she just knew that a homeless person sitting in front of the bar isn’t good for business.
Half an hour passed, and two 40-year old guys came in for a drink. They ordered sodas (“it’s a fucking bar, for god’s sake – if you want to hang out, go to the senior citizen’s center” - she thought, as she always did in cases like that, but, as always, she kept her mouth shut - “at least they don’t look like Vietnam veterans who didn’t notice that the war was over”). Guys started to talk, and whether she liked it or not, barmaid overheard a big piece of their conversation:
- “So you’re gonna attack me from behind, right? This way you can bite me in the neck, and everybody would see it. Besides, when you will do that from behind, I have a slighter chance to defend myself, you know what I mean?”
- “OK – so I’ll jump on you, and first try to strangle you, my other hand holding your arm behind your back so you wouldn’t do anything. Are you right- or lefthanded?”
“Jesus! What a crazy day! Those are freaks, too”- thought the bartender in despair. “Is it a full mooon or something?”. Not even 15 minutes passed, when another guy came in to use the bathroom – this one looked like a burn victim, his face inhumane, with random hair sticking out of his ears, blood-filled eyes. Two guys knew this one: “Hey, Timmy – yo’re gonna eat Frankie alive, right? But as for Charlie, he’s gonna have to die in the explosion – it’s gonna be more spectacular, besides you can’t eat everybody – after a while it gets boring”.
Mulberry Street Production is shooting a rat-zombie-horror movie, using the bar as their office.