Junior’s rig made short work of the fence. “Hey, Lemmy, wanna grab the shovel from the sleeper?”
-“Don’t think you’re gonna need it, mate. Looks like most of the tenants have done the excavatin’ for ya, innit?”
-“We don’t want the empty ones. We want the ones that still have fingers inside.”
-“Bloody hell, mate, it’s your funeral. Heh. Here y’go.”
-“Where you off to?”
-“Gotta pay my respects.”
-“He’s not actually a hell of a lot of help, is he, Junior?”
-“I’m not complaining yet, De’Ath. He’s the only one I’ve met who knows how to dial in the EQ on the E.A.R.A.C.H.E. the way I like. Plus he’s got excellent taste in…”
-“Watch your six, Burton. Dead celebs coming your way.”
-“Wouldja look at that. Strother Martin? Who knew he was buried here?”
-“Junior, I’d recommend you get back in your…”
-“Mister Martin, I’m such a big fan. Could you say it just once? C’mon, say it. ‘What we have here is failure to communi-’ ***YEEEOOOWWCCHHH!!!***”
-“Jesus Christ, Burton. Why don’t you ever listen?”
-“Sonofabitch, that smarts. Hey!! Look, it’s Lee Van Cleef. He won’t be any help, he never did have fingers to spare.”
-“Never liked him anyway. He couldn’t be trusted to keep up his side of any deal. Hey Van Cleef! Kiss my cracked ass! OWWWCCHH!!! God damn you. When I get back, I’m gonna kill you.”
-“He’s already dead, Junior. For the love of God, will you stop feeding the zombies and help me dig?”
-“He bit me, De’Ath! The sonofawhore bit my thumb off!”
Lemmy ambled over. “Ronnie Dio could sympathize. At least it wasn’t a garden gnome that got yours.”
-“Come on, Junior. Two people can dig a lot quicker than one. Dig.”
Van Cleef wheeled around and chomped one of De’Ath’s fingers.
-“Fuck me that hurt!” complained De’Ath.
-“Guess he didn’t feel you did justice to his lines,” snickered Junior.
De’Ath whirled the shovel over his head and drove the blade through Van Cleef’s neck, severing the offending head from the body.
-“Right. Let’s get what we came for and piss off before we run out of digits.”
-“Christ on a bike, what’s that?”
-“Oh, him? That’s just Marty Feldman, Lem. Don’t be frightened, he’s a hell of a nice guy, by all accounts.”
-“Think he can help us out? I seem to remember he has experience with filthy jobs just like this.”
CHOMP!!
-“OWWW!!! God damn these shit-eating dead movie stars!”
-“Heh. ‘Shit-eating.’ Doesn’t speak well for your own fingers, does it, De’Ath?”
-“Shut up, Burton, or I’ll just bring a few of your fingers back to Stretch’s head, since you’re so casual with 'em.”
-“I’d love to see you try it, De’Ath.”
-"'Scuse me gentlemen, there’s an autograph I need to get."
-“The hell you talkin’ about, Lemmy? Didn’t you already see Dio?”
-“Nah, mate, it’s Reginald Gardiner. Me mum worshipped the man. The Great Dictator, A Yank in the R.A.F., The Dolly Sisters, Christmas in Connecticut…”
-“Lemmy, let’s just get the fuck outta here. Here, guys, let’s just drag this casket onto my truck and we can bail on this joint… there!”
CHOMPCHOMP!!!
-“Shit! Christ, we gotta get outta here while we can still steer! Who were those guys?!”
-“Tex Avery and Bob Clampett. I’d have thought they’d rest more peacefully, since they’re buried in such a splendid spot across the river from Warner Bros.”
-“Nah, Termite Terrace was on Sunset. Guess they would have been happier at Hollywood Forever. Assholes. No pleasing some people.”
-“Speaking of Warner Bros, come on, Lem. We got a car to find.”
-“Be right with you, Burton,” growled De’Ath as he swerved and floored the gas pedal.
SPLAT!!!
-“Shit, Gonny, what the hell did you have against Annette Funicello?”
-“Long story, beginning with an unsuspected peanut allergy. Never mind.”
-“Oh. And Stan Laurel?”
-“I’m an Abbott & Costello man, as all right-thinking souls should be.”
-“Yeah, okay, I buy that. So why are you wearing Telly Savalas as a hood ornament?”
-“He just didn’t get out of the way in time when I splattered Jack LaLanne.”
-“Okay, reasonable as ever. Mind the guard shack there.”
-“I wouldn’t have to if your truck hadn’t knocked it completely off its base into my path.”
-“Excuse the hell out of me. You called ahead and arranged drive-on passes, then?”
-“You might want Lemmy to hand you the shovel. You appear to have Rod Steiger and Jeff Porcaro clinging to your mirrors.”
-“God, I hate Toto. Lemme bash 'im for ya.”
-“Be my guest, Lem. Oh, and De’Ath, if the oversized cheque is anything to judge by, you’ve got Ed McMahon stuck in your grille.”
-“I’ll scrape him off once we find the garage.”
-“And unless I miss my guess, that’s Donald O’Connor tapdancing on your trunk lid. Damn, all these years he’s been in the ground, and he’s still got the greatest feet in town. Oops… well, he did. The left one seems to have snapped off.”
-“Junior, I spy with my monocled eye a 1959 Cadillac ambulance.”
-“Yeah, that looks like the one.”
-“And Liberace crawling up your E.A.R.A.C.H.E.”
-“Let 'im stay. He’s earned it.”
-“What should we do about those guards? Looks to be two dozen of them.”
-“Run 'em over, same as always. I have a feeling they’d thank us if they were still human.”
-“All right… there we go. Now, to load the Ecto into your rig.”
-“Lemmy, could you do the honors?”
-“Right, boss.”
-“Hell, De’Ath, this was almost a walk in the park, at least if Stretch really can fix these goddamned missing fingers.”
-“If you say so, Burton. I’m going to take a quick look 'round the backlot. I thought I saw a suspicious-looking black car duck down the alley there behind Stage 16.”
-“Stay outta trouble, De’Ath. We’ll meet you back at the Ark.”
—Mission 2—
Sir Gonville De’Ath (daneel), Escort:
From zombies you had 19 HP of damage from 243 encountered - 13 regular damage from 32 hits, 7 critical damage from 17 critical hits. Chomp! 3 fingers lost at -2 MV each! And, you encountered 11 WB security guards, who caused 0.79 damage each for a total of 9 HP. That’s a total of 28 HP of damage, leaving you with 40 HP.
Jack Burton, Jr. aka “Junior” (funruly), Mule:
From zombies you had 15 HP of damage from 129 encountered - 11 regular damage from 8 hits, 4 critical damage from 3 critical hits. Chomp! 3 fingers lost at -2 MV each! And, you encountered 13 WB security guards, who caused 1.22 damage each for a total of 16 HP. That’s a total of 31 HP of damage, leaving you with 24 HP.
