Max Thompson sat in Mrs. Hargrove’s history class, bored.
His friends Ashley
and Benny mapped out a clandestine zombie game to go down in the
deserted art room after school, both out of sight under student desks. As
gamers, they cranked their video game controllers up to “zombie
apocalypse” so that they might fight digital undead and munch on stale
vending machine nachos.
They slipped into the art room when the last bell rang, barricaded the door
with supplies, and drew heavy curtains. Their concentration was entirely
upon the screen, scouring their inventory and slaughtering pixelated zombies
with glee. But as Max clicked the button to throw a grenade, a crash
resounded from outside; shuffling, then incoherent groans.
“Dude, did you hear that?” Ashley’s eyes darted nervously toward the door.
“Probably just Mr. Thompson knocking over something in the science lab,”
Benny replied, trying to sound cool. But Max knew better. The shuffle of feet
and groans were too vivid.
“Let’s get this round over with. I got a bad feeling,” Max said, clenching his
controller tighter.
Their screen flickered; their characters fought on. Then the door burst open.
In came a horde of what seemed like actual zombies—kids from the grade
below, their eyes glassy and greenfaced. Some were in old school spirit T-
shirts from the disastrous pep rally.
“Ohmygosh! They’re real!” Ashley screamed, dropping her controller.
“Consistency in game mechanics!” Benny quipped weakly, whimpering now.
Max’s heart was racing. What felt like a million years later, they were stuck in
an art room full of what seemed to be actual, honest-to-goodness zombies.
“We need a plan!” Max said, trying to rally. “We can’t fight them off like in a
video game, but maybe we could outsmart them!”
Max swept his eyes over the room for anything useful. His eyes came to rest
on a dusty paint cannon. He turned to face his friends. “Benny, get the tarps!
Ashley, fill up the water guns!” Max hollered, now in charge. “We’re gonna
make a diversion!” He grabbed an old container of neon green paint. “Let’s
make ‘em look like they just stepped off a paintball field! Maybe that way, we
can slow ‘em down!”
They put their plan into action. The zombies shambled closer to check out
the hubbub in art class. Benny filled water guns with colorful weapons of
destruction, and Max cannoned neon paint explosions. Every hit made them
more dazed than deadly. They stumbled, turning the art room into a vibrant
mural with legs.
Finally, the last droplet of paint landed on an unlucky zombie who stumbled
back in confusion. Max, Ashley, and Benny pounded into the locker room,
slamming the door behind them. They caught their breath, hearts pounding,
excited and satisfied with their teamwork.
The silence was broken then by laughter out in the hallway. In the middle of
this vibrant chaos, at that very moment, stood students witnessing a mass of
painted zombies—instead of falling into fear, they broke into laughter.
“Can we play?” one girl hollered, waving a paintbrush in triumph.
Just like that, their game was changed into one of paint-zombie battle
revolution. A little mayhem replaced the dreary day, now odd in its
celebration of zombielike antics. Victory was clinched through teamwork, and
they knew this would become a legend for years to come.
