Ep.241 – Alien Zombie Punks from Upstate New York - It's an Undead Party!

WEBVTT

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It's New Year's Eve. Time to
head down to New York City and paint

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that little town red. Although unfortunately
it looks like that red is not figurative.

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It's literal, as there's blood and
monsters everywhere. Now the only question

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is can you escape? And will
they serve a nice beer there? What's

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that you want to be scared?
Come with me. You will experience tales

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over opera, ghosts, and death
gap. It is not recommended for a

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week at heart listen as in the
dark, it's more fun at that way

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way. This is Weekly Speaking.
Hello my spookies. It's Wednesday, and

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you know what that means. It's
time for a little spooky in your weekly.

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And this is the last time I'll
be saying that this year, twenty

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twenty three has been a very complicated
year, a very wonderful year for Weekly

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Spooky. Many of you discovered our
show this very year. It's also been

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a very challenging year personally, but
I sure am happy to have my spookies

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to spend some time with and I
sincerely thank you. And I also want

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to say, although we didn't quite
reach it, my New Year's dream of

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reaching one hundred Patreon backers is closer
than it has ever been before. We

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reached ninety eight backers over the holidays. Thank you so much. I wanted

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to see one hundred, but you
know what, I'll take it If ninety

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eight is what we can go,
ninety eight is what I will be thankful

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for. So thank you to everybody
who signed up for our Patreon over at

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00:02:06.680 --> 00:02:10.840
Weeklyspooky dot com. Find the Patreon
button and click on it. I really

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do appreciate it. And you don't
get nothing for your money. For as

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little as one dollar a month,
you get two bonus spooky stories every single

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month, and they're a part of
a series, an exclusive Strickfield series that

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I know you'll enjoy, called The
Weekend. So if you want to join

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up and make my New Year's dream
happen at the last possible second, you

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can go to Weeklyspooky dot com and
click on Patreon. But just thank you

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so much to everybody who's joined up. That's something that's been really important to

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me. The more we grow the
Patreon, the more we secure the future

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of Weekly Spooky, and it's really
important to me, and I know it's

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important to a lot of you too. So with all that said, I

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don't want to waste any more time. We have a very special New Year's

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story from my good and producer of
the program, Dan Wilder, a man

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who without there would be no weekly
spooky. This one's got punk, rock,

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zombies and the New Year's and we'll
hear it after this Alien zombie punks

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from Upstate New York by Dan Wilder. Why is it so dark in here?

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Damn it? I just hit my
head on a ceiling. Wait a

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minute, I think I'm dead.
Let's see if I can piece this thing

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together. We went into the city
earlier. It was me Sloppy Suicide,

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or Ricky as he was known before
last year, Debbie and myself. We

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strolled around the city streets, which
were both ten to twenty degrees warmer than

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the streets of the nowhere mountain town
we left three hours earlier, but also

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inexplicably smelled like chocolate flavored breakfast cereal, which was strange but better than the

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leather mill runoff that usually tickled our
noses with its award losing scent of sickly

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sweet putrescence mixed tenderly with chemicals that
were most likely banned everywhere else in the

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free world. Anyway earlier, our
punk rock asses clamored into Ricky sorry sloppies,

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busted up conversion van with bags of
snacks and beer, and began the

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long drive to the Big Apple.
It was already snowing steadily as we tore

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down the roads leading to the highway
entrance that would bring us close to our

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ultimate destination, Max's Kansas City for
a likely to be unforgettable night of punk

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music and New Year's revelry. But
the chains wrapped securely around the van's tires

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kept a thankfully on the road,
no matter how dicey the weather was.

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Apparently it was in part forgettable,
because piecing this shit together is getting harder.

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But I digress. So we walk
around, got buzzed. Debbie bought

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a few trinkets from the street vendors, and eventually we wandered our way over

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to the venue. After arriving and
stepping gracefully over a disturbingly large puddle of

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puke, we stepped inside. The
place was wall to wall punks, bullshitting,

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drinking, being charmingly rude, All
of our greatest qualities brought out in

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mass. We mingled, we drank, we were loud, and soon the

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opening band lurched to life. I
can't for the life of me remember their

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names, but they sang fast,
aggressive songs about alienation, indiscriminate fucking.

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There might have even been a television
cover in there. They were quickly followed

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more scruffy snot leaking bands that played
forty song sets in the space of twenty

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minutes apiece so Far, So worth
it. The night wore on and on,

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but soon the headliners took the stage, Coming straight from the wilds of

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New Jersey. These folks looked,
for all the world could tell, like

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Ghules returned from the dead to raise
unholy Hell, and they were louder and

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more confrontational than all the other acts
combined. Wait a minute, Gules,

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that triggers something to fire off deep
within my brain. The scream started from

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the back of the club, but
it was barely audible over the din of

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the band and the crowd cheering them
on. Occasionally, the band's bass player,

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a hulking dude with long black hair
brushed in front of his face,

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would smash his instrument into anyone foolish
enough to dare to get on stage.

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Onward, they played bringing Us Chain
Gang Ruses and three angry chords, all

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wrapped around tales of the Kennedy assassination, teenagers from outer space and satanic werewolves,

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and subtly the crowd noise became less
and less. I have no idea

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what compelled me to turn around,
but I did, then quickly regretted it.

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In the front of the house,
someone, or more accurately, something

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moved among the crowds swiftly. The
being's eyes reflected light, not unlike a

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dog or a cat, which was
disquieting enough for sure, but the fact

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that it was seemingly murdering patrons left
and right was undoubtedly its worst feature.

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I turned back to warn Debis and
Debbie, but another shadow being had torn

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them to pieces before setting to work
on the band, who admittedly fought like

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leather clad perserkers, but no amount
of leather clad muscle and violence could stop

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the creatures, whose numbers had now
swollen to four. Upon seeing this,

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I did the only sane thing I
could think of. I ran the fuck

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out of there. I pushed through
the throng, slid constantly on barf,

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blood, and lord knows what other
bodily secretions, before I burst out onto

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the city street. The heavily falling
snow made everything seem like a Christmas card

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worthy winter wonderland, but the sky
held less enchanting prospects. Far above the

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skyscrapers, meteors streaked across the sky, leaving violet trails in their wake.

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I ran on, passing various New
Yorkers, staring uncharacteristically in shock. As

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feet away, one of the meteors
hit the sidewalk, splitting it violently.

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One of the shadow beings rose from
the smoking rubble and immediately attacked a bystander,

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sending a geyser of blood up into
the frigid night sky, the resulting

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crimson rain freezing to red ice as
soon as it collided with the ground in

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steam hissing droplets. Shit, why
is this happening? I thought, stereotypically,

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as I tore ass on and on, without a destination and no other

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motivation than saving my narrow ass from
getting ripped a new one from astro monsters

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falling from the heavens. A few
blocks down, things got much worse.

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I saw one of the shadow creatures
attack a woman, but amazingly, it

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didn't finish her off before it bounded
off after a faster moving victim that ran

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like a fucking cartoon character over a
sheet of ice, before regaining his footing

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and speeding off into the night.
Against all common sense, I made my

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way over to the woman to try
and help her, but upon arrival,

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she was a complete and total mess
that looked more like a plate of discarded

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spaghetti and red sauce. A young
lady out for a stroll. Please please

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just hold me, she whimpered.
I did, immediately, soaking my best

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T shirt and blood. What's your
name, I asked, mainly because it's

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what I saw characters do on TV
when they encountered similar, deeply shitty situations.

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Uh, Olivia, she muttered weakly. That's a great name, I

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said, unconvincingly. So what brings
you out tonight? What the hell kind

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of question was that? In response
to my quandary, her eyes glazed over

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cataract white. Suddenly, she sat
up straight and shoved me back, hard,

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sending me directly on my ass.
A hiss escaped her now blue lips,

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which were flecked with neon green phlegm. Her gums had retracted to the

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point where her teeth now appeared ginormous. Speaking of teeth, she began clicking

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them together rhythmically. Somewhere behind me, I heard a slight commotion which quickly

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grew in intensity before a group of
what the hell are these things? Zombies?

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Yeah, let's go with that.
A group of zombies spilled forth from

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a nearby bodega, their limbs flailing
wildly as they moved both fast and clumsily

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forward. I screamed and possibly ped
a tad and booked it like a freight

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train straight out of hell. I
ran until my lungs burned from the freezing

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air. Then I made the absolutely
idiotic decision to stop for a second get

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my shit together. The zombies were
on me before you could say George A.

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Romero. I felt no pain,
but darkness soon took me. It

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came to for the briefest of seconds, the sound of unearthly trumpets filled the

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sky, and as soon as they
arrived, the creatures formed back into meteors

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and rose into the sky. As
the strange music became more and more like

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sirens, blackness came for me again, and then I woke up to even

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more blackness and a minor head injury
from the aforementioned ceiling. I stared into

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the darkness before my eyes finally settled
on a sliver of light down by my

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feet. I slid forward on my
back and pressed my feet towards the light.

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Damn whatever I pushed up against was
cold, cold, but very forgiving.

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A door opened, letting harsh fluorescent
lights smash into my eyes. With

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wild abandon, I pushed forward an
immediately fell onto the rigid tile floor.

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It took me about three point seven
seconds to realize where I was the morgue.

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I looked down at my now bare
feet and removed the Manila tag that

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was tied around my big toe.
I have no idea what had happened to

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me, but I was definitely not
dead. I caught my reflection in a

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nearby mirror mounted on the wall.
I wasn't a zombie either. Then I

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saw the two forms rise from the
gurneys behind me. Rick, Sloppy Whoever,

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and Debbie sat up. They were
nude minus the thin sheets that covered

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them, but Sloppy's mohawk was unmistakable, since it was hot pink with electric

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blue tips. It took a minute, but I could tell they were much

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the same as Olivia from earlier in
the evening, but their faces seemed downright

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friendly instead of you know, menacing
as could possibly fucking be. You guys

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look like shit, Thanks Pal,
you look naked. I hadn't noticed it

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before, but Sloppy was right.
I was every bit as naked as my

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friends, but where I was shivering
from the coldness of the room, they

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seemed to be as cozy as could
be. My eyes darted around the room

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for something to cover up in,
and then they fell on a plastic bin

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filled with my clothes wallet. Hell, even my beat to shit Doc Martin's

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were accounted for. I crossed the
room and pulled on my clothes. So,

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uh, what's new with you two? Well, we were ripped apart

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by aliens and woke up as zombies. But you know, doesn't feel too

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bad, Debbie said cheerfully. You
guys don't want to eat me, not

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particularly, No turn me into one
of you. Nope, Sloppy said flatly,

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Well what do you want to do? We sat at Max's drinking our

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stolen beer, just me and my
two naked zombie pals. The walk back

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was uneventful. This particular area of
the city seemed completely abandoned. Only corpses

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remained occasionally we'd hear noises of happy
crowds from deeper within the city, or

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footsteps close behind us or from the
rooftops, but if more creatures prowled tonight,

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we sure as fuck didn't see them. The entire thing was very omega

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man to be quite honest, but
as previously mentioned, one with less monsters

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for a change, so that was
a big plus. Anyway, a punk

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and two naked zombies walked into a
bar. No punchline, We just walked

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in, stole beer, and sat
at a table surrounded by corpses on a

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chilly New Year's Eve night. Hell. As hard as it is to believe,

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the new year had already begun a
few hours ago, probably between the

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time we were eaten by monsters and
waking up as either one a guy that

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obviously fainted at the prospect of being
eaten, when in fact, some cosmic

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twist of fate called the herd home
before said eating could take place, or

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two as monsters that behave absolutely nothing
like monsters that made them, who in

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turn were made from other monsters from
space. It makes perfect sense if you're

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drunk or mentally ill, or a
combo of the two. So we sat

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and drank and laughed as if absolutely
nothing was off in any way. It

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was kind of perfect, to be
honest with you, So now what what

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I mean? You too can't exactly
go back home again unless everyone in your

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family. Fuck that if the whole
damn town was suddenly stricken blind. You

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know that's kind of mean, but
totally true, don't you think, Rick,

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Debbie asked, a little string of
neon green flems slash drool escaping from

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her mouth as she spoke. It
does make sense you're not going to correct

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her for calling you Rick after being
dead. I don't know, the nickname

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seems tacky. Now it's not just
now, kiddo, Debbie countered. Rick

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flipped her the bird playfully. I
think the first thing we should do is

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assess just how far this thing spread. The rest of the city seems okay,

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but here you'd think there'd be emergency
cruise or or something. I said,

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looking for a TV or radio we
could use. I finally located a

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small transistor radio behind the bar and
switched it on. Only static filled the

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air no matter what channel I tuned
to. Well, so much for that.

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Rick got up and wandered around the
room for a minute. I think

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we have to consider something else,
he said solemnly, which is those things

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will be back. You can bet
on that. What makes you so sure,

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Debbie asked, her white, pupilless
eyes, staring blankly. Why come

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all this way, rip shit up
for under an hour, then just piss

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off back to whatever demented homeworld could
spawn space invader rejects that turn people into

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zombies, most of which are hungry
for human flesh except when they aren't.

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Like me and deb that seems like
a solid assumption. Maybe this was like

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a dry run test shit out.
See how it goes, Debbie said quietly.

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I'd say it went swimmingly, with
the exception of you guys, what

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if we are the desired result and
the others were failures. Rick offered no

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offense, but naked zombies that are
no different than regular humans other than looks

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seems like an experiment created by an
asshole convention or just by someone the next

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to zero common sense. I mean, they're aliens, presumably, maybe their

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standards of intelligence are vastly different from
ours. As logical as anything else that's

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gone on tonight, Debbie, can
I talk to you in private for a

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moment, Ricky asked, sounding more
like an adult than I've ever heard him

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before. Debbie and Ricky crossed to
the opposite end of the room. They

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stood silhouetted by the stage lights that
remained on. I couldn't help but wonder

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what in the hell was so damn
important, But I didn't have a long

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time to contemplate. As soon as
they returned to the table. So listen,

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man, me and deb were just
talking, and we have a proposition

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for you. Is this going to
get weirdly sexual? Debbie and rick laughed

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until they coughed up more green goo
that hung tenaciously to their cold blue lips.

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No, it's more like dinner plans
spill it. Let's say, for

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instance, that those cosmic creeps make
a return engagement tonight. Do you think

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your chances of continued survival are greater
or lesser given your current state? Obviously,

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to be like you would help,
but I'm not too keen on joining

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the ranks of the shambling dead.
We move around just fine, and we're

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impervious to the cold. Deb added
merrily. That's all well and good,

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but say I agree to this.
What makes you so sure I won't end

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up like the others because we aren't
like that, and we'll both bite.

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You better your chances that way.
And then what do we do? Hide

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out? Maybe gather some weapons.
If they think we're on their side,

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we may be able to just walk
up and pop them before they know what

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hit them. I truly hate it
when you make reasonable arguments. Is that

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A yes? I mean, back
home is comfortable, But I can't help

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but think I have a greater purpose
in life than being a counter jockey at

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a video store. Saving the whole
damn planet would definitely qualify for that.

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Fuck all right, I'm in Debbie
barely let out an excited yay before the

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biting began. When I woke up, I felt nothing, no more cold,

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no more warmth, thankfully, no
hunger. Eventually we gathered some supplies,

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clothes, and made our way back
to our van. Soon we were

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headed due west. As we exited
the city, which, besides the few

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blocks we spent the night on,
seemed perfectly normal in every single way.

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For now, we sat under the
hot desert sky, just outside the trailer

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we had shared for over fourteen years. We sipped lemonade from glasses adorned with

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various sci fi flick characters more for
nostalgia than anything, since we no longer

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were acquired any food or drink whatsoever. As the years wore on, we

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became less and less sure our intergalactic
enemies would ever return. But since we

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basically just hung out and watched TV
and made music, it really didn't matter

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much until the day that changed.
The saucer hovered low in the sky before

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releasing three meteors that collided with the
desert floor. Three shadow beings crossed the

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sand. We drew weapons we've never
fired and prepared for what we guessed was

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coming, Except what came was vastly
different than any scenario we'd imagined over the

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years. The beings held out their
smoky hands and our weapons vanished. Didn't

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plan on that, Ricky whispered.
Then the largest of the three spoke to

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us, Hey, folks, we
just want to say sorry for the trouble

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we caused you. As chillchildren.
We've done some serious growth since then and

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realized how childish our prank was,
but we were just young punks. We

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all looked at each other with our
cataract eyes and it finally all made sense.

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The anarchy, the chaos we as
punks held those beliefs deer, and

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so did our brothers from the stars. I cracked some beers and handed them

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to our guests. So what bands
are you guys into. I needed that

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piece of feel good fun to wrap
up the year. But don't you worry,

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my spookies. We have a whole
lot coming right up. In fact,

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in January. Next week it starts. We have a brand new mini

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series just for your fearful ears.
It's in the Strickfield universe and it's called

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Homecoming Queen Killer. It's a five
part mini series you won't want to miss.

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As we leave you, I'm deathly
suspense at the end of every show,

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00:24:03.480 --> 00:24:06.079
so make sure you tune in next
month and that you're subscribed on your

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00:24:06.079 --> 00:24:10.200
favorite podcasting app. I really can't
wait to bring this to you in the

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new year. Also, I want
to give you guys a heads up.

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In the new year, we're gonna
take a little break from terrifying and true

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honestly, I need some rest,
I really do, and I'm gonna take

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a little time off from doing terrifying
it true, So mondays, We're gonna

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chill out for a minute, but
you'll still have fun shows right here.

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Every Wednesday, something special on some
Fridays, and of course apparently on Sundays

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00:24:33.119 --> 00:24:37.079
there's some kind of unknown broadcast,
so make sure you tune in and find

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00:24:37.119 --> 00:24:41.839
out what that's all about if you
haven't already. And of course I want

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00:24:41.839 --> 00:24:45.680
to say a special thank you to
our Patreon podcast boosters, folks who pay

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00:24:45.799 --> 00:24:48.160
just a little bit more to hear
their names at the end of the show,

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00:24:48.480 --> 00:24:53.440
and they are Johnny Nicks, John
callenbobotopia dot Com, Megan Hua,

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00:24:53.640 --> 00:24:57.759
Jenny Green who is returning. Thank
you Jenny for coming back to the Patreon

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00:24:57.799 --> 00:25:02.759
and helping support the program. Julia
Kersh, Brent mccallaugh, Steve King,

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00:25:03.160 --> 00:25:06.319
Karen we Met, Jack Kerr,
and Craig Cohen. Thank you all so

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00:25:06.480 --> 00:25:10.559
much from the bottom of my heart. It's been an incredible ride this year

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and I'm really excited to see what
twenty twenty four will bring. So now,

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my friends, I'm actually going to
take a little break, but there

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will be a special show on Friday
where we have a collection of all the

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New Year's stories of years past.
But until then, my friends, for

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00:25:27.359 --> 00:25:33.640
myself, for my executive producers Rob
Fields and Mark Shields, for my producer

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00:25:33.759 --> 00:25:37.039
Dan Wilder, my good buddy,
and my good buddy. Ray mattis our

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00:25:37.079 --> 00:25:41.519
composer. I will see you in
the new year. Thank you so much.

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00:25:41.559 --> 00:25:45.200
It's a dream come true. Thank
you for listening. Make sure to

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00:25:45.240 --> 00:25:53.279
find your way back next week,
but for now you are safe. Trust me.