TITLE: There's No Gnawing in Football
E-MAIL: eli @ popullus.net
ARCHIVE: Ask, please.
RATING: PG-13
POSTED: Oct. 30, 2004
SUMMARY: Because your run-of-the-mill game wasn't interesting enough.
AUTHOR NOTES: For the La La La 2004 community, where we were ignoring the election build-up by having fun with zombies. Not as odd or crazy as it sounds.
DISCLAIMER: Read
"They got their asses kicked. Soundly thrashed." Dan paced their office, arms and legs going like he couldn't decide whether to fake a drop-kick or a bat-swing. Passing Dana again, he swung around to lean in close, both hands up, imploring. "And that was just in the first quarter. It was spectacular. We have to air it."
"From what I saw of the tape, their asses weren't the issue, Dan," Dana said through clenched teeth. "And again, from what I saw of the tape, there's no way in hell we're airing it. That's it. Discussion--" She broke off and frowned at him, holding up a hand when he started fuming again. "No, wait, this isn't a discussion; I'm making a decision. Which, hey!" Her eyes went wide in entirely false shock. "Guess what, that's my job!"
"But, Daaaanaaaa..."
Ignoring Dan's bouncing, she tossed Casey a hard look. "McCall. Get a handle on your partner before I make you do the entire show without him."
"Wh-whoa. What?" Casey protested. He stood and planted his hands on his desk, a prime position for expressing flummoxed irritation. "What'd I do, and how do I go back in time to when I wasn't doing it?"
"Oh, you did something," she assured him. "He wouldn't have thought he could push this unless you were going to push, too, so..." Her hand cut through the air, slashing at Casey's unspoken defense. "Write the damn script. Get him to write it with you. And unless you can offer me incontrovertible proof of this...insanity, it had better not include more than a single sentence about the Cowboys-Lions game."
With that parting shot jabbed home with a finger in Dan's direction, she left. Jeremy held onto his tie as she swept by, then shot a worried glance their way. Casey just shook his head. Jeremy winced, and hunched over his computer.
Dan turned to Casey, still bouncing, now with a manic grin on his face.
Casey pointed his own finger. "No."
"Come ooonnnn," Dan wheedled. "She said 'a single sentence.' Oh, the things we could do with a sentence! The possibilities are...they're just..." He trailed off, a look of near-ecstasy on his face.
Casey fell back into his chair, hand to his head. "Do you want to be killed, live on TV?"
"She wouldn't," Dan dismissed Casey's sigh with a wave and settled on his desk. "Torture, maiming below the waist, that's okay. But death? That would be even worse than what she's refusing to air, which is just the coolest football game EVER." He hopped up again, unable to be still. "It's our obligation as sports reporters, our obligation as people to make sure that the world knows about this."
"I'm pretty sure that anyone watching television knows about it," Casey said, raising his eyebrows. "It is football."
"Sure, but they called the game due to 'mass food poisoning' before--"
"You just want to say it."
"I don't want-- Yeah, okay, I can't keep that up." Dan casually picked up and started fooling with his stapler. "But what's wrong with that, I'd like to know. Why shouldn't I say it?"
"I think the network would have serious problems with accusing a major-market NFL team of cannibalism," Casey said one more time, because maybe it would get through on this try.
"But it's not!" Dan protested. "They're dead, so they're not human any more; ergo, not cannibalism." He frowned, and Casey's stomach clenched, not at all liking the look of that frown. "Huh," Dan mused. "If they had started chewing on each other, though, that would've been--"
"Something that we're still not going to show," Casey quickly informed him. "Or talk about."
"So Tyson taking a chomp out of Holyfield's ear is okay, but not zombies gnawing on the helmets of Detroit's favored sons?" Dan threw up his hands. "I don't get it. I mean, they never even broke through the padding! And if they'd gone for Parcells, half the country would have stood up and cheered! Although, you know, I think it's pretty telling that they didn't."
Casey couldn't stop the snicker, and Dan crossed his arms and leaned back with a smug expression.
"Hey."
Casey jolted. Natalie's eyes narrowed dangerously and she stepped into the office.
"What'd you do?"
"I?" Casey held his hands high and open. "I did nothing. I am not even contemplating any doing."
"Riiight." She nodded and then aimed a look Dan's direction. "You. No zombies in the show, or you can't begin to imagine the harm that will be inflicted upon you. Happily. With glee, even."
"Gleeful harm?" Dan asked.
"Very gleeful," Natalie said.
Dan scrunched up his face, thinking about it. Casey thought about throwing a pen at him. Or maybe the keyboard.
Just as Casey was thinking the monitor might be best, Dan allowed, "Very well. I shall refrain."
Natalie snorted. "You'd better. Repeat after me: glee."
"Glee," Dan said obediently.
"Always knew I liked you, Danny," she said with a smirk, and walked off.
Blowing out the breath he'd been holding, Casey stiffly turned away from the door. "I think it's safe to assume that if you even look like you're going to say 'zombie' or 'zombies,' Dana will take her clipboard to your head like a paddle to a ping-pong ball."
With a disappointed sigh, Dan nodded. "Yeah, with a gleeful smile."
"With Natalie doing a happy dance," Casey added.
Head down, shoulders theatrically slumped, Dan slowly rounded his desk, sat, and spun himself around to face his computer. Casey peered at him.
"You're still smiling."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"So am not."
"Well, not now."
"Hmph."
The sound of typing took over. Then there was an evil chuckle.
"Oh god," Casey muttered.
"No, wait." Dan leaned forward, a mischievous grin tugging at his mouth. "It would only be accurate if I said the Lions' offense was so offensive they could have been beaten by the walking dead, right?"
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