Another Post-Apocalyptic Love Story

“Damn it!” Chester said out loud as he awakened. “I’m still alive.”

Life was tough for Chester “Chazz” Darvey. It had been three years since The Outbreak, and somehow, he was still surviving.

This is what Brendan Fraser looks like.
This is what Brendan Fraser looks like.

Chester was a tall, muscular man with long, curly brown hair. He looked a lot like Brendan Fraser, but with long hair… so he looked like Brendan Fraser in the movie Airheads or maybe George of the Jungle. I assure you, however, that it most definitely was not Brendan Fraser, even though his body type and chiseled face looked almost identical to that of Brendan Fraser. So even though people – even in the Apocalypse – would stop him and say, “Hey, are you Brendan Fraser?” it was not him. Chester was a big fan of Brendan Fraser though, but I’m just not sure if it was because he admired his acting abilities or because they looked like each other or maybe some crazy hybrid of the two.

He wasn’t Brendan Fraser, though.

Oh, and he also hated being called “Chester.”

Chester had no friends, no family, no acquaintances; he was completely alone. As much as he prayed for Death’s sweet kiss, it never happened. Chester didn’t really “try” to get himself killed, but he wasn’t “trying” to stay alive either… it just sort of kept happening. Chester’s life pre-and-post Apocalypse was quite similar. He was scrounging for food, he was lonely, he was dirty, he urinated wherever he felt like, and people often asked him if he was Brendan Fraser.

Chester got up out of his cot and walked toward the opening in the wall. His day-long journey to survive was just beginning. He walked out onto the fire-escape of the warehouse in which he was staying and climbed down to street level. With a machete slung over his trench coat and an aluminum baseball bat in hand, he cautiously traveled to the outskirts of town to find food and supplies, and God-willing a Spanish version of a Playboy magazine. Chester didn’t speak Spanish, but he enjoyed looking at the naked flesh of Hispanic women. Please don’t judge.

As Chester made his way into the next town, he noticed something oddly familiar about the place. Most of the buildings were reduced to rubble but there was still something he recognized about the place.

“Wait a minute… I went to this high school in 11th grade,” Chester said to himself.

Chester’s family moved around a lot. His father was a Catholic priest and their family would often move from town to town after a couple of years. Chester’s father told him it was because “God was calling them to spread The Word in another town.” To Chester, “the call” seemed like it came from the county Sheriff department, but that was neither here nor there.


A distant cry for help interrupted his thoughts.

“HEEEELLLLP ME, PLEASE!!!!” the voice screamed, louder.

Chester ran toward the direction of the hollowed-out remains of his high school, where the voice was coming from. As he got closer, he noticed a beautiful woman being chased by a group of zombies. Chester ran to her aide, clubbing the nearest one with a baseball bat to the skull. He unsheathed his machete and made short work of the other three zombies, dismembering and beheading all in sight.

“OH THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!” the woman said, as she hugged Chester.

“I was in there seeing if there was any food and I got turned around and couldn’t find my way out so I panicked and dropped my bag and ran toward this door but on the other side of the door were these zombies so I turned back around and headed toward the fence and that’s when you saved me!” she frantically recalled.

“There, there. You’re safe now,” Chester said soothingly.

Chester brushed her hair aside in an attempt to calm her down. It was then that he realized that he recognized this beautiful woman. It was Kayla Christensen, only the most beautiful girl in school. Chester had dreams (occasionally of the “wet” variety) about Kayla almost nightly when he went to school with her. She was captain of the cheerleader squad, she was an A-honor roll student, homecoming queen, the most popular girl in school; you name it, she had it.

(Boobs? Oh, hell yes. She had those too. Perky ones.)

She looked better than when he remembered her from years ago. She had the same beautiful blond hair, the same perfect smile, the same heavenly voice that spoke in continuous run-on sentences. Chester instantly fell back in love with her.

“Kayla?” Chester said, interrupting her rant.

Kayla paused and looked up at Chester.

“Brendan Fraser?” she inquired.

“No,” Chester responded. “It’s me. Chazz Darvey!”

Kayla still looked puzzled.

“From high school? This high school? Junior year?” After a slight hesitation, Chester continued, “Chester Darvey, I sat next to you in-”

“CHESTER!” Kayla interrupted. “I remember you now! I don’t remember seeing you senior year, Chester. Did you graduate here?”

“It’s Chazz, actually,” Chester corrected. “Nah, my family moved to a different school senior year.”

“Oh yeah, your dad! How is Creepy Carl doing?”

“What? Um… he’s dead.” Chester explained.

Chester and Kayla took up shelter inside the school and began catching up. They weren’t friends in high school at all, but they were both eager for some human contact. It had been months since Kayla or Chester had seen any other human being; a living one anyway. Even though Kayla didn’t give Chester the time of day in high school, she enjoyed talking to him now. It was the closest thing to “normal” she had experienced in years.

“You know, Kayla… I had the biggest crush on you in high school. Like – THE BIGGEST. I sat behind you in Chemistry, just staring at your perfect hair. Sometimes I could smell the aroma of your perfume… it was intoxicating. I looked forward to that class every day because that was when I knew I’d get to see you. The days that you were home sick? They tortured me. My day was completely ruined when I didn’t get to see you. I didn’t know how to talk to you. I didn’t know what I’d say. I dreamed about you every night. I fantasized about you constantly. I just knew, in my heart, that you and I were destined to be together, forever. And seeing you here today, all those feelings… came rushing back. I am still in love with you, Kayla.”

Kayla stared at him with a smile on her face.

“Oh Chester…,” she said, as she reached over to brush his gorgeous Brendan Fraser-like hair out of his face. “That is so sweet!”

Kayla grabbed Chester’s hand.

“I promise that we will be friends forever, Chester.”

Chester’s heart sank. He stopped breathing for a few seconds. When he started again, it was as if his soul had just exited his body. He just got friendzoned, and not just a regular friendzone, but a Post-Apocalyptic friendzone, which is without a doubt, the worst kind of friendzoning one can do.

A gurgling from the other side of the wall interrupted the silence. Kayla shrieked in horror but Chester just sat there, staring.

The wall collapsed to the ground and four zombies came crawling into their hideout. They quickly grabbed Kayla.

“CHESTER! CHESTER! HELP ME!” Kayla screamed in horror.

Chester just sat there in his friendzone, staring at Kayla.

“CHESTER! PLEASE! CHESTER! AH! AHHH! AAAAHHHH!!!” Kayla screamed, as the zombies began to devour her.

Chester casually got up and walked over to the zombies feasting on Kayla and killed all four of them. He removed the bodies off of Kayla who was now unconscious and bleeding profusely from multiple places. He walked over to his bag to get some rope and then back over to the now deceased body of Kayla.

He smiled as he looked down at her corpse. A tear came to his eye, for all his fantasies were about to come true.

I Hear Voices

Throughout my life, my interactions with women have been described as “unbelievable” or “creepy” or even “terrifying.” I believe this has been well documented. I present to you, Exhibit AA994-13a. This true story comes from 1994, when I was in the tenth grade at Wayzata Senior High School in Plymouth, Minnesota.

It was a new school for me and everyone else in my grade. We were all struggling to fit in and find our place in this massive building. It was the beginning of the school year and one of my classes was Biology. I looked forward to this class, as fate had paired me up with one of the most beautiful girls in my school. For the purpose of this story, her name shall be Jamie.

Jamie was my lab partner in Biology class. I like to think that it was because God loved me and wanted me to make sweet love to this woman, but in actual fact, it was because her last name started with G and mine H, so we were paired together because that is how sorting people alphabetically works.

Throughout the next couple weeks, I did my best to make it known I was totally into her. I did my usual stuff – not giving her eye contact, barely talking to her, wetting my pants when I saw her in the hallways, and crying uncontrollably in the bathroom stall in-between class periods. I, like you reading this right now, was completely mystified as to why my approach wasn’t working. Something had to be done. I was a sophomore now. It was a new school and I needed to step up my game.

I spent all weekend coming up with a way for Jamie to fall in love with me. By late Sunday evening, I had a plan. The previous week I overheard her say in the halls that she thinks Mike was cute. Mike was a fellow drummer who I knew pretty well. He had dark, curly hair and honestly, he was pretty dreamy. I met Mike in junior high school when he was “the new kid.” I showed him the ropes at his new school: which teachers are the nicest, when to get the best selection of library books, how to fake drowning in gym class to get out of swimming, which kids gave the gentlest wedgies… you know, the essential stuff. Anyway, my plan was to play matchmaker and hook the two of them up. THEN, I would… I don’t know. I’d figure that part out later. It was 7:00pm on a school night, which was already two hours past my bedtime. I’d have to figure out the logistics of how I would get Jamie to fall in love with me later. But first, it was time to get her to fall in love with Mike.

Monday morning came, and I couldn’t wait for Biology class. To get Jamie and Mike together would mean that I would actually have to TALK TO Jamie… like carry on a real conversation. Then, while this conversation was happening, she’d realize how cool I am, and forget all about this Mike character, instantly falling in love with me instead. This plan was so genius.

During Biology class, somehow Jamie and I started talking. I’m not sure what we were talking about. I’m pretty sure I was falling in and out of consciousness because a girl was actually talking to me. I remember her asking if there was any girls that I fancied at that school. (Except, she used a term way cooler than “fancied” because she was cool, and I was not.) In my head, I was screaming “YOU! YOU! YOU!” but I responded with “not really” or maybe even “No! Yuck!”

“How about you?” I asked her. “Do you [fancy] anyone?”
(Again, replace “fancy” with a cooler-sounding word. Any term from the 90’s will do. 1990’s.)

“Well… there is one guy,” she said like a giggly little school girl… because she was a school girl, I guess.

“It’s Mike, isn’t it?” I responded.

She was surprised and confused as to how I knew the answer. Remember, I overheard her tell her friend she likes Mike in the hall last week.

“Yeah! How did you know?” she said excitedly.

How did I know… hmmm… well, there is really only one way to answer that question. There is absolutely no reason to tell anything BUT the truth. Instead, I decided to improv it a little bit and go off-script.

“Sometimes… I hear voices and one told me you liked Mike.”

This is what a scared woman looks like.
This is what a scared woman looks like.

The English language does not contain the words to accurately describe the sheer horror that was painted across her face.

“I think I’ve always heard voices…” I continued, filling in the silence.

Oh my God, please stop. STOP!

“Sometimes they’re good things. Sometimes bad things.”

I couldn’t stop. Meanwhile, the color was quickly draining from her face. It got to the point where a friend of mine who was sitting in front of us turned around and told me to stop because I was scaring her.

I did heed my friend’s advice and I stopped, but at this point, the damage was done. I finally talked to the woman of my dreams and I ended up telling her that I hear voices. Perfect. THIS is the plan I spent the ENTIRE weekend devising?

The days that followed played out as expected. Mike and Jamie got together, I mysteriously got a new lab partner, and I never spoke to Jamie again.

The Hansen Family Annual Christmas Letter 2013

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone from the Hansen family. I realized that no one in my family had (to my knowledge) written our annual Christmas letter, so I decided to take it upon myself to update everyone on the goings-on on all things “Hansen.”

Let’s start with my parents. 2013 began with the annual tradition of unpacking boxes from the last year’s move and begin to settle in to their new place. By June, all the boxes had been unpacked, just in time for the annual “pack up your things, we’re moving” phone call in July. My father got a new position handling the finances on the International Space Station while my mother moved to Arizona because “that’s one of the few places I haven’t lived yet.” But my father still gets to see my mother every other week when he shuttles down from space to visit. Somehow, they make this arrangement work.

My older brother Kevin realized his dream of becoming a professional wrestler this year. Well… sort of. He worked his butt off to train and spent a “troubling” amount of time on his ring entrance. (“Troubling” in Vince McMahon’s words, not mine.) Anyway, he finally got his debut on WWE Monday Night Raw in November. He came out with glorious fanfare complete with lasers and a ton of pyro. His ring entrance was, in a word, legendary. Then came the actual wrestling. His first move in his first match was countered by the wrestler known as Faaaaaaaaannnnndaaaaaaaaannnnngoooooo, and turned into a piledriver, paralyzing Kevin from the neck-down and effectively ending his wrestling career. But if you could have seen his entrance…

On a bright note, he has a new nickname. We call him “Quadsy” or sometimes “Professor X” because of the wheelchair to which he is now confined. He seems to be in good spirits because he was more fascinated by wrestling’s theatricality more than its physicality.

My younger brother Rob made it a goal this year to be more outgoing and be more sociable. This experiment had the opposite of the desired effect and this caused him to make Antarctica his new home. The nearest grocery store is three days (by ship) away from his new home. He is happy though, because he is now free to be his freaky self without any mocking glances from his family and society, in general.

My younger sister Katrina had great fortune followed by great heartache this year. She randomly bought a lottery scratch-off ticket at a gas station and won $100. She then celebrated with a week-long stay in the Emperor’s Suite of Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas, where she managed to blow $213,984 in that short week before being “escorted” to the state line. She eventually hitchhiked home to begin rebuilding her life again. She may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer but she is pretty, and that’s all a woman needs to succeed in this world.

Lastly comes me. I spend most of my time in my diamond-encrusted crusty chair at Sniffer’s Row Gentleman’s Club in Tenney, Minnesota. I only know my friends by their stage names and my money is spent one dollar at a time. I am quite the celebrity there, as I frequent their fine establishment very close to 24-hours a day. The rest of the time is spent either sleeping or selling lemonade on the highway.

This was the life I dreamed of on my school’s Career Day.

That’s about it! We all hope your 2013 was a prosperous one. Seasons Greetings and a joyous 2014 to you all!

I Am a Joy to Fly With

This is what a black guy looks like on a plane.
This is what a black guy looks like on a plane.

Flying is not fun for me. It is the ultimate exercise in keeping my mind occupied with happy thoughts, while desperately trying not stab the passenger in the seat next to me. Some flights are more difficult than others.

I was recently on a late evening flight. It was for work, so I didn’t get to pick my seat, but luckily for me, I was given the most coveted of all airline seats – the middle seat.

As I boarded the plane, I inched my way toward my row. I took inventory of my fellow passengers, seeking out the fattest and most annoying passenger I could find. Why? Because that’s how I’d know where my seat is… next to the fat guy.  As I glanced around, I spotted him on the right.

“THERE HE IS!” I sarcastically exclaimed to myself. “That is who I’m going to be sitting next to.”

I made my way to row 13; the same row as the fat guy. I looked at my ticket. 13E, next to the fat guy. I sat down next to the fat guy, who had already claimed the armrest. (Bravo, sir! Bravo!)

I sat there and wondered what kind of unpleasantries I’d have to endur- Oh, okay. He’s playing a stupid game on his stupid cell phone. “Are you going to be playing that stupid game the whole flight?” And he’s also breathing like he just ran (or witnessed?) a marathon. Coughing? Sure, why not! How about I shove an entire bottle of NyQuil down your throat, you disease spreading fat ass!

Okay, okay. When I regained my composure, I opened up my book and began to rea- Oh, really? We’re still coughing here? That’s great! Just great. You know, any time I’m sick, I’m like, “You know? I really should go in a small, enclosed vacuum filled past-capacity with other people to spread my joy to as many people as possible!” WHY DON’T YOU JUST COUGH DIRECTLY INTO MY MOUTH, YOU FAT, FAT ASSHOLE?!?

Deep breath, aaaaahhhh….

I returned back to my book and started reading. My mind relaxed and soon I was transported into a world of mystery and suspen- What’s this? What is he doing? He’s getting out another electronic device? What is it now? An iPad. Okay. So, he’s putting the game away on the phone and going to do something else on the iPad? “Wait… why are you still playing the game? Are you just waiting for your movie to load on your iPad? But the movie is playing now and you’re still playing the game. How can you be doing both? What are you doing? Which activity has your attention here? Are you going to watch a movie or play the game? You can’t choose both. Sir. Sir? You can’t choose both!! YOU’RE STILL PLAYING THE GAME AND WATCHING A MOVIE??? You ADHD MOTHER FUCKER! How about I take your portable electronics and safely stow them DIRECTLY UP YOUR FAT ASS?????”

Ahhhh… snack time. I’m going to eat some disgusting pretzels (or perhaps a stale cookie?) and wash it all down with an ice-cold Ginger Ale.

“I’ll have some water, please.”

WATER? Why did I say that? I wanted Ginger Ale! You stupid, stupid IDIOT! I can still change my mind. She hasn’t poured it yet! Say “Ginger Ale!” Say “G I N G E R  A L E!!!!”

“Here’s your water, sir”

“Oh, delightful!” I exclaim.

Damn it. Water. I can have water literally ANYWHERE and I still choose to drink that. Whatever. At least it isn’t that smelly beer the guy on the other side of me is drinking. What kind of beer is that, sir? Pisswasser? “And how many beers is that for you anyway? Like six?”

Okay, brush the crumbs off my shirt and out of my beard and now back to my boo- Wait. Who is singing? Singing? Really? On a plane? Oh, it’s YOU, guy to my right!!! “You’re going to sing now?!?! How about I cut off your head and use your skull as a drum??? Keep singing, you piece of shit! KEEP SINGING!!!!”

Yeah, yeah, yeah!!!! And it’s country music too! “Sir, the first guitar I see is going directly up your ass. I’m also going to poop in your cowboy hat, you out-of-tune mother fucker!!!!!”

After several more of those dream sequences (or hallucinations?), I realized the plane had landed. I respectfully said my goodbyes to the people next to me as I reminisced one last time about their decapitated heads rolling down the isle upon landing.

College Admission Essay as Written by the kid From Flight of the Navigator

Below is an excerpt from David Freeman’s college essay, written six years after his ordeal aboard an alien spacecraft, as chronicled in Walt Disney’s Flight of the Navigator.

5) Describe your most challenging experience in your life…

I’m sure you get a lot of these essays that are the same thing over and over again. “My parents divorced when I was young” or “I was in a car accident” or “My best friend died.” Cry me a river. I traveled through time when I was 12 years old.

You read that right. I traveled through time. Let me take you back. (pun intended)

I was at home and my mom told me to go to the neighbor’s house to pick up my little brother, Jeff. Jeff was eight years old at the time and a bit of a punk ass bitch, if you ask me. I didn’t get along with him very well but I knew my mom would be pissed if I didn’t go bring him home.

Through the woods I trekked to the neighbor’s house. Now, bear in mind, this was 1978, and parents didn’t give a flying fuck what their kids did. There was no fear about kids getting lost in the woods or some crazy child molester kidnapping them. There were no rules or guidelines as it related to raising your child.

As I was saying, I was walking through the woods to get my bitch-bro and I don’t know whether I tripped or was startled by a nearby train or what, but the next thing I knew I was coming out of consciousness after falling into a little ravine. Thinking my mom was going to be pissed that I was “dicking around” in the woods, I ran home as quick as I could.

When I arrived home, I couldn’t get inside the house. So I knocked at the door. Now check this shit out – a different family answered!


I’m all like, “I live here, dude!” and they’re like, “Uh, no, you don’t!”

Naturally, I freaked and went to the police to straighten this shit out. While there, the police ran my fingerprints. They were all like, “Your parents reported you missing. They’re on their way.” I was totally relieved. I don’t know why my parents decided to pack up and move while I was out getting my brother, but that was a conversation I would have with my family over a couple beers and pizza some day.

When my family arrived, they looked like shit. Let’s be honest. It looked like my mom’s face had gone through the blender because there were a shit-ton of wrinkles on that face. My dad too. He was all gray-haired and balding. But my brother, Jeff? HOLY FUCKING SHIT! Talk about a fucking growth spurt! This dude looked like he was 16 years old!

I must have had the infamous “Tha fuck is going on?” look on my face because my family was like, “You’ve been missing for eight years.”


I thought they were joking at first but then NASA starts questioning me about where I’ve been for eight years and why I didn’t age. It’s right about now where I start thinking that I must have taken a pretty nasty spill in the woods earlier.

NASA eventually takes me to one of their super-secret facilities to run some more tests. While there, I get this strange calling from this voice inside of me. I follow the voice and get closer to a large hanger that houses a giant-super-large SPACESHIP!


So these NASA guys have been trying to get inside this spaceship to no avail, but I come walking along and BAM, the spaceship door opens up. I climb aboard the ship and get the hell out of there.

This is what I looked like aboard an alien spaceship.
This is what I looked like aboard an alien spaceship.

While aboard the spaceship, I thought I should get up and check this place out. I was 12 years old at the time and naturally, I was inclined to walk around the spaceship and stick my dirty little nose wherever the fuck I felt like. Through my endless snooping, I stumbled upon the spaceship’s artificial intelligence, who was taking great exception to my snooping. His name was Max and although we had a bit of a rocky exchange when he was welcoming me on his ship, we eventually hit it off.

Max was pretty cool. He took me to all these places on Earth nearly instantaneously. We went above the Earth in space, in the ocean, and I even think we went to Tokyo or some shit like that (it may have been Kansas). But all this exotic travel aside, I knew I had to stop dicking around and start figuring out how to get back to MY time.

I hooked back up with my family, because even though they were all decrepit-looking, they were still family. I found them and they were super supportive. They hid me from the police and NASA while they tried to figure out a way to get me back to my time. Eventually, I was like, “Hold the phone, bitches! Maybe that spaceship knows how to take me back!”

So I went and had a little chat with Max. I was like, “Max… you gotta take me back to ’78, hommie.” And Max was like, “Sorry bro, that’s super dangerous. What I did to you was sort of an accident, and I’m super sars about that, but you’re gonna have to live here, in 1986, as a 12-year-old.” To which I responded, “Eeeerrr! Try again, bitch! You take me back to 1978 or I will disable your warp drive so fast you’ll wish you would have sprang for the Corrilian Crystal Drive upgrade back on Phazon 7!”

I was pulling that shit out of my ass a little bit, but it seemed to work, because Max was like, “Okay buddy, strap in!” My family said their goodbyes because, frankly, who wants a 12-year-old running around the house again. That phase of their life was over and mom and dad just wanted to be left alone. So they were really happy to get rid of me.

Max was right in that the human body is not capable for withstanding the insane speeds necessary to travel through time, because I quickly passed out. When I came to, I found myself in the exact same ravine I fell in a few days prior. I rushed home to find my mom, dad, and Jeff waiting for me in the boat, about to shoot off some fireworks for the Fourth of July.

When I was reunited with my family, I hugged them all and told them all that I loved them… even Jeff. They had no idea what I had just been through.

— David Freeman