February 13, 2010

An Excerpt from 'They Are Idiots'
an upcoming comic by Joel Schneier and Zachary Smith (theyareidiotscomic.com)

In the following excerpt from THEY ARE IDIOTS, DAISY, a nine-year-old girl bent on world domination, and IGNATIUS, a clinically depressed centuries-old vampire, talk about the past and their horrific plans for the future...

* * *

IGNATIUS:
I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I can see the signs—they’re everywhere. In everything I do, everything I say… I wasn’t always like this, you know…

DAISY:
(clearly bored, sighs)
Yep…

IGNATIUS:
When I was first transformed I was so hungry; I was gluttonous. For such a long time I didn’t even convert anyone, I just fed and fed and fed… I wanted to consume the world…

DAISY:
Understandable…

IGNATIUS:
Yes, I calmed down after a fashion as the years went on. I became more precise, humbly devoted. Hell, I was an artist. I started converting others, mentored them in the craft, gathered followers, became a legend… to the few that remain from that era, I am still legend…

DAISY:
I can see that…

IGNATIUS:
But then, somewhere along the way, I lost my pupils to the very art I bestowed upon them… to this curse.

DAISY:
(pulling silently on her pigtails)
How fascinating…

IGNATIUS:
Their numbers have waned over the years… many were undone by their own carelessness. I grew angry at them, so I… I disbanded them all. I told them to leave, to never feed again, to never practice the art again… but they only laughed at me!

DAISY:
Tough stuff…

IGNATIUS:
So I did what I had to do… I demonstrated how the teacher would punish the students… those left alive fled. And I didn’t pursue them.
(breaks down into sobs)

DAISY:
(rolls her eyes, which can even be seen in the dim light)

IGNATIUS:
(controlling his sobs, only sniffling now)
Since then, since the purging, I’ve been lost. I have no direction. No ambition. I haven’t fed myself in so long… and part of me wants to keep it that way… part of me is waiting to starve to death…
(sobs even harder now)

DAISY:
(frustrated, but doing her best to keep calm)
Well, Ignatius, not that I don’t enjoy hearing all about your… troubles… but I don’t see how letting someone as old as you cry themselves to pieces under my bed helps me raise any frickin zombies!

IGNATIUS:
(hurt)
You think I’m old…?

DAISY:
You’re beyond old! You’re beyond dead!

IGNATIUS:
Undead.

DAISY:
Yes I know!

IGNATIUS:
(irritated)
Well, Daisy, if you don’t like the conditions of our agreement that’s fine with me! You won’t help me, I won’t help you.

DAISY:
Humph!

IGNATIUS:
So that’s your attitude!? Forget the whole thing then! Deal’s off! You can find another centuries-old master of the undead to teach you how to cultivate zombies… oh, wait—you can’t! Because I fucking obliterated them all!

DAISY:
(angered, huffs then stuffs her face into the pillow on her bed)
Fine! Please, continue!

MISSES HAROLDSON:
(from outside the room)
Daisy, did I hear you cursing again?

DAISY:
(feigning sweetness)
No I wasn’t, Misses Haroldson.

MISSES HAROLDSON:
Good girl. You wouldn’t want me to tell your mother you’ve been naughty when she gets home from work, would you?

DAISY:
Not at all, Misses Haroldson.

MISSES HAROLDSON:
(sound of walking away from bedroom door)

DAISY:
(muttering under breath)
Dried-out old hag…