“New record, lady and gentleman.”
Chester A. Arthur XVII walked into the kitchen and leaned against the doorjamb.
“Three minutes and twenty-six seconds.”
“I don’t understand why you can’t just use the flamethrower like a normal person,” said William H. Taft XLII. “I mean, that’s why we bought the damn thing.”
“Because, Billy, my boy,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII, “that’s simply not a very sporting endeavor.”
“They’re walking fucking corpses, dude.”
“Hell,” added Queen Victoria XXX, “they’re barely even that. They’re like scarecrows made of balsa wood and phlegm. I think they’re beginning to decay more rapidly than they used to.”
“There was a cow out there with them this time,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII.
“A cow? Why the hell was there a cow?”
“Don’t know, but we’re going to be eating steak for a week.”
“Dude,” said William H. Taft XLII.
“It’s cool, I checked it out,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII. “No discernible craving for human flesh, no gaping wounds or missing parts. Hasn’t been dead that long, either. There’s plenty of edible meat on there.”
“Man, we don’t know how to turn a cow into steak.”
“That’s what the internet is for.”
“More importantly than that, gentlemen,” said Queen Victoria XXX, staring intently into the open refrigerator, “we’re out of beer.”
“Then it looks like you and I are going for a drive,” replied Chester A. Arthur XVII.
“You guys can’t be serious,” said William H. Taft XLII.
“Sure are,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII. “Fire up the grill, fatty.”
“The nearest functioning liquor store is four hours away.”
“Then Charlie and I ‘ll be back in eight hours,” said Queen Victoria XXX. “Give you time to carve that bitch up.”
“That’s the spirit,” said the cloned genetics of Chester A. Arthur.
“Aw, come on guys,” said William H. Taft XLII.
“We should probably get more cigarettes, too.”
“No, uh-uh,” said Queen Victoria XXX. “You said you were going to stop.”
“Well, I was, but…”
“I’m not having this discussion again, Charlie. If you buy cigarettes on this trip, I’m hitting you with the car.”
“Fine, no cigarettes,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII with a sigh.
“Good. Now let’s get going.”
“Later, Billy,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII.
“Shotgun!” shouted Queen Victoria XXX, prancing her way out of the kitchen.
“Hall closet,” replied Chester A. Arthur XVII as he grabbed the car keys from the counter.