A couple of weekends ago, I was waiting in my car for an appointment. I was in an older, historic part of town. It was a little overcast.
The night before, Mr. Zoom and I had watched a movie. A movie we should have known would be all kinds of steamy poo, but we watched it anyway. It was the remake of House of Wax. I won't go into detail about how we ended up watching it. Let's just say someone we know is due for a repeated eye poking. With a rusty fork.
So I was in this old part of town daydreaming when an older lady cruised by an abandoned building in her Lark scooter. And she scared the crap out of me. Something about her demented smile and scooter swag - combined with the fact that she looked like she could easily take me in a bar fight despite her 100 year old appearance.
Suddenly I became a movie director/producer/writer. "OH! We could totally make a horror movie about a town made up of evil elderly scooter people! People always think they are harmless because they are in the scooter. Or that they are grandmas who make cookies and knit. We could set it up so that all the counters and stuff are low, all the houses/stores/public areas have amenities that are too low for the walking people to access in time to save themselves. The scooter people could invoke clever trickery and scooter modifications to separate each member of the group and pick them off one by one.
We could call it "The Town that Legs Failed!"
Mind you, I'm in the car BY MYSELF.
Then I went home and told Mr. Zoom about my conversation. With myself. He said "I want in there. I want inside your head. I'd love to know how this happens." He emphasized "this" with an extended wagging index finger pointed at me.
I'd like to get in there myself.