fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room, Thursday Evening

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Third Floor Common Room, Thursday Evening

So, it had come up in conversation last week that Sabine either didn't like or just hadn't really been exposed to any horror movies. Which had kind of surprised Norman - not liking them was one thing, but it was hard to envision a life without ever having seen one before, given just how much of his own life had been spent parked in front of the television watching them himself.

So today, he'd ordered Chinese food (and apparently Ching Tai had messed up the order and sent him triple portions of everything), hauled out his movie collection, and made his way to the third floor common room, where he was perusing his options.

Well... there was Zombie Nation, Lonesome Dead, Doc Zombie, Brain Eater, Space Zombies, or the classic, My Baby Was a Zombie...

Norman grimaced a little as he looked the selection over.

"I really am Gothy Spice."

Sigh.

[OOC: Open common room! Links contain minor cartoon gore on movie posters that are totally ParaNorman canon.]

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"No better time to have sloppy noodles than watching a movie about cattle rustlers who eat brains," Norman said, grinning. "I'd say you're in for a treat, but all of these movies are kind of terrible."

Which was half the reason he liked them, probably.

"I don't see how that means it's not a treat," she smiled. "I've decided there's some good In terrible TV."

"Even if the best part of it is laughing at it?" Norman laughed a little himself, shaking his head. "But really, if you decide halfway through you aren't enjoying it, there's no shame in turning on something else, instead. I know my taste in movies is a little," narrow, "weird."

"Why's it weird?" she wondered.

"All zombies, all the time? I don't know," Norman replied. "I guess someone might get the impression that I'm a little obsessed, maybe?"

He kind of had been, when he was younger. He still had a lot of his stuff, but it was hard to see zombies the same way after being able to talk to some.

"As long as you're not going around biting people, you're fine," she shrugged. "You're into what you're into."

"Even the zombies I've seen didn't go around biting people," Norman mused. And then veered sharply away from his own reality to offer, "I mean, the ones on the island mostly just play music, right? I'm sure we would have heard something if they did more than torment the bartenders with country music."

"I don't know. I haven't had a reason to be in there at all," she said, frowning. "I can't imagine they're a problem. It's kind of ruin business if they were."

"I would guess so," Norman agreed, answering her frown with a crooked smile. "I'm kind of surprised people aren't weirded out by them enough that they don't get business."

He paused, and then added, "I've seen people get stupid around them. I'm sure they're pretty cool people."

"Maybe it helps when you know there's nothing to worry about. If I walked in now I'd assume I'd be fine," she pointed out.

She also assumed she'd be able to shoot them.

...one day Sabine might end up in the lake.

Well, you had to learn somehow, right?

"True. I mean, it's harder to be afraid of something when it's totally failing at playing a guitar because its fingers keep falling off. Probably."

"Does that happen?" Because ew.

"I have yet to see a zombie it hasn't happened to," Norman confirmed.

He'd had to pass an ear back to one, once, when he was younger.

That had been an experience.

"That sounds.... inconvenient."

Gross. It sounded gross.

"It's really, really nasty," Norman replied.

Because it was.

"I have questions I don't want answers to," Sabine said slowly.

"I... probably have answers anyway," Norman noted. "If you're ever feeling brave enough to ask those questions."

"I'm brave enough," she said. "I'm also trying to eat."

"Then we'll just... not, with those questions," Norman said, grinning crookedly. "That's fair."

He tended to forget that most people didn't spend their entire lives surrounded by casual displays of gore.

It was entirely possible that with her history of explosives, Sabine had caused a few dismemberments in her time, but she didn't exactly have to deal with that.

"So instead, tell me what's special about cowboy zombies," she said.

Want a good way to get Norman to perk up a little? Get him to talk about his stupid zombie movie habit.

"Oh! Sure, so, there's this sleepy little town in the middle of the Western frontier, right? And they get weekly visits from the stagecoach... only one week, the coach doesn't arrive. And it doesn't come the next week, either. So they figure it's bandits. It's usually bandits. So the sheriff goes out to see what's what, and they find bandits, all right. Zombie bandits. Well. One zombie bandit boss and a whole zombie gang... made up from the victims of the robberies."

There was an expressive little fingerwiggle to go with this.

"And that's just the start of the movie! I didn't even get into the cattle rustling and the undead stampede..." He paused. "Maybe I should just put in the movie?"

"Sure. Though feel free to add whatever comments you want," she said, seriously amused.

Norman gave another quick, sheepish grin, and then he pulled out the DVD and stuck it in the player.

You too, okay? There's no point in having a bad horror movie night if I'm the only one telling people to run or look behind them or that they're so stupid."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm very vocal when it comes to telling people they're being stupid," she assured him.

"Then you might actually enjoy this movie after all," Norman laughed, and he reached for another box of noodles.

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Third Floor Common Room, Thursday Evening

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